


let the sun in

by icepools



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Christmas, College, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-01-25 02:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21348793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepools/pseuds/icepools
Summary: when his family cancels christmas on him, lucas finds refuge in the local bookshop. thankfully, will, the boy working there, doesn’t seem to mind all that much.
Relationships: Will Byers/Lucas Sinclair
Comments: 26
Kudos: 55





	1. help me darling, now i’m feeling lonely

It is December 15, 1989, at seven o’clock at night, that Lucas realizes he is royally fucked. 

It’s not his fault, really; his mother neglected to inform him of what _ any _of his family members were interested in for Christmas until two days ago. He managed to get Erica’s gift, an art set, and his father’s, a new sweater and a pair of khaki pants.

His mother, however—his mother’s gift is a problem. 

“Just get me a book or something! I’ll be happy with whatever you get me, dear,” she had said. Lucas assumed this was meant to be reassuring, but it only stressed him out more. Not having a set list to follow stresses him out. 

He’s meant to go home in two days. Technically speaking, he _ could _ just buy something for his mom back in Hawkins. But _ then _ he has to somehow get out of the house, and then sneak a whole book or _ whatever _back into the house, and that’s a whole mess Lucas doesn’t want to get into. 

So he’s decided on a book from here, New York. Books are safe. Everyone likes books. Even if they don’t read them, which Lucas’ mother definitely won’t, it’s still a nice decoration, or conversation starter. Hell, maybe there’s a school in need of a book tailored to middle aged mothers. 

The only problem is that Lucas doesn’t know what his mom would like to read. She didn’t read when he was little, save for storybooks and poetry. She didn’t read in his teen years, either. 

Maybe she reads now, but Lucas wouldn’t know. He never goes home anymore. He tells his family it’s due to his studies, but really it’s the lack of a desire to see them. They’re not very exciting, his parents. They don’t do much anymore. 

_ A book_, Lucas reminds himself, snapping himself out of his thoughts, _ You need a book. _

There’s a bookstore ten minutes from campus. Lucas only knows this because he saw it once, coming home (drunk) from a night with friends. He’s not quite sure how it remained in his brain—he forgets most of the things he sees when he comes home (drunk) from nights out.

He takes a left, then a right, and another right, and there it is. Smaller than Lucas remembered, which worries him. What if they don’t have anything his mother will like?

_ That’s impossible. There must be _ something _ in there. Even a small bookstore has a thousand books. _

Lucas quickly learns that his knowledge of how many books a bookstore may have is severely lacking. He can’t _ really _tell, as there seems to be books in every area of the shop and some are hidden behind others, but the store definitely has more than a thousand. 

But, oh, how _ cute _ it is. Charming. Lucas never thought he would use those words to describe a _ shop_. It’s dark; it has few windows and it seems most of its light comes from the lamps on the shelves and the hanging lighting from the ceiling. 

The _ ceiling. _It’s very tall; probably twice as tall as Lucas. The books seem to go all the way to the top of the building. He hopes his mom’s book isn’t up there. 

Speaking of his mom, what would she even want? Probably some romance novel—she’s certainly a romantic, and his father certainly isn’t. Maybe she needs her fix of romance.

_ Then again_, Lucas thinks as he makes his way to the romance section and is immediately bombarded by airbrushed shirtless men and women wearing skimpy robes, _ Maybe not. _

To be fair, maybe that’s just Lucas not wanting to look at _ those _covers again. 

_ If I were my mom, what would I want to read? _

Well, _ shit_, hell if Lucas knows. He doesn’t know what his mom likes to read. Maybe that makes him a bad son, but he genuinely has no fucking clue. 

Maybe adventure? Adventure is fun; everyone likes adventure. (Lucas doesn’t, but that’s okay, because his mom probably does. Hopefully, anyway.) _Now, where the hell is the adventure section? _

The store isn’t exactly easy to navigate, shelves cluttered and seemingly cross-categorized in some spots and normally organized in others. Lucas bets someone could get lost in here. 

Some people probably like that, but not him. He doesn’t like books like other people like books. 

_ Okay, if that’s historical fiction, and this is business, then—no, that doesn’t help me at all. Fuck! _

Lucas is brought back to reality when he hears the wooden floorboards creaking. Probably the person actually _working _here, one which he doesn’t really want to talk to. In an attempt to look busy, he grabs the first book he sees and opens it to the fifth page, hoping and praying that it’s enough to make the worker pass him by. 

“Can I help you with anything?”

Okay, well, shit, that didn’t work. Lucas sighs quietly and moves his head upwards to respond to the employee. 

_ No, I really don’t need your help, please leave me—holy _shit.

Lucas’ response of _ no, thanks, I’m good _catches in his throat when he sees the employee in question. 

It’s a boy; a small one. He must be Lucas’ age (Lucas knows this mostly by context) but he’s _ tiny_. A foot smaller than Lucas, at least. 

He looks soft. _ Does that make sense? _ This boy is soft. His hair looks soft and smooth and his skin looks even _ softer_. It takes something in Lucas to hold his hands back from touching the boy’s face and hair and maybe his hands, too. 

A quick glance downwards tells Lucas that the boy’s name is Will. It’s drawn in big black letters on the small name tag on his chest. If that’s Will’s handwriting, then, _ shit_, his handwriting is cute too. 

And, fuck, does Lucas think Will’s cute?

“Hello?” Will speaks again, and suddenly Lucas is reminded that he actually needs to _ talk_.

“No—I mean, um, yes—I mean,” he stutters out, and very much wants to punch himself in the gut.

“So is that a yes? Or no?” Will asks, lips curled into a smile he's very obviously trying to hide. 

Lucas sighs a little, bringing himself back to reality once again. “Yes. I’m looking for a gift—a book—for my mom,”

Will purses his lips, stifling a laugh. Lucas appreciates that, at least. “So you—you decided to look at…” he leans down to read the cover of the book Lucas is holding, then snorts, “_Secrets of Expanding Your Legal Nurse Consulting Business_?”

“Yes!” Lucas sputters immediately. Actually, no, not at all, but he doesn’t want to look stupid in front of Will. “She, uh, she’s looking into becoming a…” he closes the book and glances at the cover again, “legal nurse. Consulting business.”

Will blinks up at him once, twice, then grins. Lucas’ face flushes at the sight, and he hopes Will doesn’t notice. 

“Right, well, maybe this isn’t the best gift? Bit boring, don’t you think?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lucas agrees quickly. Who knows, maybe it’s not boring, maybe it is; he never read it, and _ definitely _never planned on it. “Super boring.”

Will’s smile shrinks a little, but it remains on his face. For a second, Lucas is ecstatic that _ he’s _ making this boy smile, but the euphoria fades when he realizes that this is Will’s _ job_. Being nice to people. Lucas has nothing to do with it. 

“So—let’s get out of the business section,” Will says smoothly. He takes the book out of Lucas’ hands and for a second their fingers brush and Lucas _ swears _his heart is two seconds from jumping out of his chest. 

“What does your mom like to read?”

Lucas looks up from the ground to find that Will is already walking, eyes fixed on the shelves. Every couple steps he stops and runs his (slender and probably soft) fingers across the spine of a book. 

“Um—“ Lucas says as he rushes to catch up to him, “I don’t know.”

Will’s shoulders tense a little. Lucas can only assume this is because now he has nothing to base his search off of, which means his choice might not be good, which means that someone will be unhappy with their gift. 

“Or—um, she likes real stuff. Like, uh, drama,” He doesn’t know, _ obviously. _But maybe she does. He supposes he’ll find out in a week and a half.

Will relaxes once again. “I can work with drama. Come on, this way.”

He takes a sharp left, and Lucas stumbles as he takes it behind him. He’s _ lucky _Will isn’t facing him.

Will hums and mumbles under his breath. Lucas doesn’t pick all of it up, but he gets things like, “Drama, drama, drama—what _ kind _ of drama?” and, “_I can work with drama, _ what the fuck did I say that for? I can’t work with drama.”

“Do you know if she’s ever read any Stephen King?” he asks suddenly. Lucas sputters for a moment, due to the fact that Will turned to look at him and _ fuck _he’s still really cute, before thinking the question over.

“Um—isn’t he, you know, a horror writer? She doesn’t like that,” he says. He _ knows _ she doesn’t like horror stories—once in ninth grade he came home and said he chose _ The Haunting of Hill House _as his book to study for english class, and his mom nearly fainted. 

He doesn’t want to repeat _ that _mistake.

Will chuckles a little under his breath. Lucas swallows. “Yeah, but he’s got other stuff. Here, let me see—“

Will shows him _ The Dark Tower_, and Lucas ultimately decides that his mother wouldn’t be a fan.

“She doesn’t really like fantasy, er, science fiction stuff like that,” he says absentmindedly. Will blinks at him. 

“Your mom sounds boring,” he shrugs, then his face falls. “I mean, uh—“

Lucas laughs. “No, no, you’re right, she _ is _boring.” Will smiles at this, then continues scanning the shelves for something that might interest Lucas’ boring mother. 

He shows him _ Different Seasons _by Stephen King, which he explains is “a bunch of stories in one book.” Lucas turns this one down, too.

“Okay, so that’s a _ no _to Stephen, then.” Will laughs. Lucas smiles, a little embarrassed by his mother’s inevitable pickiness. 

Watching Will skim the shelves again, he grins, and says, “Nice sweater, by the way,”

Will’s sweater is not nice. It’s blue, covered in white stitching on the front and cuffs of the sleeves, and ugly as _ shit._

“Unless you, I don’t know, like it—“

Will laughs, actually _ laughs _ with his whole chest. “_God_, no. It’s horrid. Boss says it boosts the Christmas spirit, as if anyone actually comes in here ever.”

_ Christmas. _Lucas wonders if Will is leaving for winter break. He wonders what classes Will takes. He wonders if Will likes him. 

(Not like _ that_, just, like, he wants to know if Will likes his company.)

He’s about to voice his first query when Will makes a sound in between a squeal and a scream.

“_Yes_! Okay, here, look at this one,” He yanks the book off of the shelf, and practically shoves it into Lucas’ hands.

“_Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe_?” he reads off the title, screwing up his face.

“Yeah. I know it looks…_ weird_—“ Will bites his lip, and Lucas’ heart rate picks up, “But I think your mom might like it. If not, you can take it back, obviously. I can give you a gift receipt, too.”

Lucas flips through the pages and skims the synopsis on the back of the book. He himself wouldn’t pick this up for his mom, but he trusts Will.

“Okay. Cool.” he says, and Will’s face lights up. 

He takes the book with the long title back, and ushers him over to the cash, muttering things about the book and ”Oh, god, I hope she likes it!”

“Nothing for you?” he asks, punching some numbers into the cash register. Lucas gapes at him for a second, then laughs. 

“No. Not really a big reader.”

Will eyes him for a second, then opens his mouth to say something. He closes it after a moment. He presses his lips together, huffs, and grabs a bag to put Lucas’ book in. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, then rushes off towards the shelves. Lucas blinks at him in confusion. 

Will comes back with a book under his arm. Upon further inspection, he sees that it’s _ Different Seasons_.

“I swear, it’s actually really good,” he tells Lucas, shoving both books into the bag he retrieved moments ago, “Ten buckerinos, on the dot.”

“Wait, but—“ Lucas starts. He _ knows _both books don’t cost ten dollars all together. 

“Hush! My treat. Read it—_ actually _ read it,” Will grins at him. Lucas’ breath hitches. “Then if you don’t like it, you’ll know. But if you _ do_…”

He bites his lip again, and all the blood rushes to Lucas’ head. 

“If you do,” he repeats, “maybe you can come back and get another book.”

_ What. _

Lucas swallows and silently hands over a ten dollar bill. Will takes it happily. Upon further inspection, just in the two seconds he can see them, and feel them, Lucas discovers that Will’s hands are indeed very soft. His fingers have little pencil smudges on them, and he sees dried paint on his pinky. He wants to link his with Will’s, just to see what would happen. 

Will retracts his hand, and Lucas is brought back to reality.

“Enjoy your books,” he hands the bag to him, smiling, “And, uh, maybe I’ll see you back here.”

Lucas grins, waves at Will, and exits the shop feeling light and very _ very _happy.

He digs through the bag and pulls out the book Will gifted him. It looks long, but he said it was four stories in one, so maybe he can manage.

He decides that he’ll read it, partly because Will said he would like it and partly (mostly) because Will told him to come back if he liked it. (He probably will anyways.)

He thinks about how quickly he can read it, so that maybe when he comes back from Hawkins he can visit Will.

And only then does he stop in the middle of the sidewalk and realize that he didn’t even give Will his _ name._


	2. i know the time; it doesn’t wait

Lucas is supposed to go home tomorrow, but right now he’s pretty sure _ that’s _not happening.

“Wait, wait, tell me again?” he requests. His mother sighs on the other end of the phone. 

“_Your father and I won a trip to the Bahamas. It’s a week—so no Christmas._”

Lucas can’t believe it. What the fuck does _ no Christmas _mean?

“So—no presents,”

“_Right_,”

“And I’m not coming home?”

“_Basically_.”

_ Well, shit. _

“Okay. Uh—have fun, I guess? Tell Erica I say merry Christmas.” he says. He doesn’t know _ what _to say. His parents just cancelled Christmas on him.

“_We will, dear. You have a nice time over in the big city, now. Love you, bye_.”

She doesn’t wait for him to say _ love you too _back, hanging up the phone immediately after finishing her sentence. He groans, and slams the phone back onto the wall.

Well, that’s just _ great_, isn’t it?

Now he has an art kit, a pair of khakis, a sweater, and a book he has no use for. 

He can wear the pants, maybe, but the sweater is too big for him. The art kit is useless, he can’t draw for shit—

But maybe he knows someone who can?

Speaking of _ someone who can_, he can return the book with the long title. Or maybe he’ll read it, but then he doesn’t get to go back until he finishes.

So—Will won’t mind if he returns an unread book, right?

Lucas hopes he likes the art kit, too. It wasn’t _ that _expensive, and he genuinely has no use for it. Based on the pencil smudges and paint of Will’s (oh-so soft and pretty) hands, he assumes he’s an artist of some form.

And also, what kind of university student doesn’t like gifts?

There is, of course, the possibility that Will’s isn’t a student and he’s just a teenager (teenager?) working at a bookshop. Even then, Lucas decides, he’s an artist (maybe) and he’ll at least _ appreciate _the gift.

He returns the sweater first, to a fancy store in the mall that intimidates him more than he cares to admit. The lady at the cash register gives him a _ look _ that makes him shift uncomfortably. He smiles at her. She waves him away.

His backpack is heavy due to the book and entire art kit inside it. It makes his shoulders slump as he heads to the bookshop.

He’s crossing the street when he realizes that there’s a chance Will isn’t working today. There’s a chance Will is already off heading home to his family. 

Of course, maybe Will doesn’t have anywhere to head home to. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to. He seems to like his job—he sure likes the books.

_ Shit_, he hopes Will isn’t mad about him returning the book. Maybe he should just go back to his dorm and start to read it—

Lucas reaches forward and opens the door to the small bookshop on the corner.

The little bell above him rings this time, something that didn’t happen yesterday. He supposes Will got it fixed. Or maybe it’s new. He’s not sure—it’s only his second time here.

“Just a second!” Will’s familiar, warm voice yells from a part of the bookstore hidden from the view of customers. The _ second _Lucas hears Will talking, there’s a grin on his face and a flush on his cheeks.

He stands by the cash register, tapping his fingers on the surface. He considers venturing into the sea of books to try and locate Will. His decision is made for him when there’s a loud crash from the same place Will’s voice came from.

Lucas immediately puts the book down and rushes into the maze of shelves, peering through gaps between books and jumping to see over the high ones.

He finally finds Will, a mess of books, limbs, and a ladder collapsed on the ground.

“Holy _ shit_, are you okay?” he asks, kneeling down to Will’s level. To Lucas’ surprise, and confusion, he starts laughing. _ Hard_.

“Yes!” he says, then snorts a little, “I—it’s not funny at _ all, _I definitely bruised my elbow!” Despite him realizing that the situation isn’t all that amusing, he continues to laugh, tears forming at the corners of his scrunched eyes. Lucas isn’t sure if they’re from the laughter or just pain.

“You’re really okay?” he presses, leaning back as Will sits up. He stumbles a bit, and the elbow he's leaning on gives out. Lucas grabs his arm and torso before he hits the ground.

“Yeah, yeah, this happens all the time. Perks of having tall shelves and being five foot six, I guess.” His laughter has died down, and now he just looks a little uncomfortable. “It’s Lucas, right?”

Lucas blinks at him. “Uh—yeah,”

Will’s face falls a little, “Sorry. Not a stalker. We had the same creative writing class last year.”

_ Oh _ is Lucas’ initial reaction, and his secondary reaction is _ How the hell did I not notice you? _

“So what brings you?” Will asks, allowing Lucas to lift him to his feet. “Finished the King book already?”

Lucas laughs. “No way. I, uh, came to return the other one.”

Will snaps out of his grip and stares at him, cheeks flushing pink. “_What_?”

“I just—“

“She didn’t like it?”

Lucas takes a closer look at Will, and he notices his trembling lip and thumbs that are nervously poking at each other. 

“No! She, er, she never got it,” Will tilts his head. His thumbs fall, thank _ god_, but his lip is still shaking a little. “Family cancelled Christmas on me.”

Will’s lip stops shaking, and now he just looks sad. Not for himself, but for Lucas. “I’m sorry,”

“Not your fault,” Lucas smiles. Will swallows.

“Not yours either,” he replies, and Lucas’ smile widens, “Okay, come on, let’s get this over with.”

He follows Will towards the register, where the book is sitting—waiting.

“Have you started the other one?” Will asks, punching something into the machine. 

“No. I will tonight,” he shrugs, then his face lights up, “Oh, hang on, I have something for you.”

Will looks up at him through his eyelashes, and Lucas swears his heart misses at _ least _three beats. He powers through and digs through his bag, pulling out the art kit. It’s wrapped in an old grocery bag, so Will’s look of confusion is expected.

“Open it.” Lucas says, putting it on the counter and sliding it forward. It’s only then that he realizes he’s giving a _ gift _ that he spent _ money _ on to a boy he met _ yesterday_.

Will looks at him for another second, a small smile forming on his face. He shakes his head a little, then starts to take the box out of the bag. His smile falls when he lays eyes on it.

“Lucas—“

“Before you say anything, it was supposed to be for my sister, but since the whole Christmas is cancelled thing happened, I thought I’d give it to you,”

Will gapes at the box, then at him. “How did you—“

“Know you were an artist?” Lucas asks. Will blinks a couple times then nods. “I saw the paint on your hands. And the pencil.”

Will’s cheeks go red, and he reaches down to rub his hands across his jeans. “I, uh—_wow_. Thank you. I didn’t—I didn’t get _ you _ anything, but—“

“You got me that book,”

Will grins. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he presses another button, then looks up at Lucas, “You’re sure?”

Lucas nods. With a heavy sigh, Will scans the book and places it to the side. 

“Can’t _ believe _ you didn’t read the King book _ or _this one and still had the audacity to show your face in here,”

“Would you rather I left?” Lucas asks, a wide smile spreading across his face. Will whips his head upwards to look at him.

“No.” he says, face flushed and eyes determined. Lucas swallows.

“Okay,” he extends the _ y_, “So would you mind if I stuck around for a while? Today? Maybe you could draw me,”

Will groans. He hands Lucas a receipt, and steps out from behind the desk to put the book back. “You have _ no _idea how annoying that question is,”

“So is that a yes?”

Will laughs, sticking the book into an empty space on the fiction shelf. “Maybe next time,” he says, and Lucas’ brain short circuits and suddenly his only vocabulary is _ next time next time next time_.

“I could draw _ something_, though, if you want something to do. It’s slow here around the holidays.” Will mumbles something about _ always _ and _ slow _and Lucas doesn’t quite hear it but he laughs anyway.

“So, uh—you go to NYU?” Lucas awkwardly tries to start a conversation with Will. The second the questions leaves his mouth, he _ curses _ himself because no _ shit _he goes to NYU, they were in the same creative writing class. 

“Yep. Arts. I know, _ shocking_,” Will shows him his hands, which, despite his efforts of cleaning them on his jeans, still have splotches of dried white paint and smudged pencil on his pinky and thumb. “And you?”

“English,” Lucas replies, shrugging, “Gonna be a journalist.”

Will whistles. He makes his way towards the cash register again, pulling a chair from a nearby desk to the other side. He sits behind the cash, and nods for Lucas to sit in the new chair. His brain screams _ sitting! talking! cute boy! sitting and talking with cute boy! _as he does so.

“So you’re an english major and you don’t like to read?” 

Lucas huffs, despite his smile, and leans forward on his elbows. “Basically. I like real stuff more than fantasy—not that I’m not a _ huge _fantasy person,” he adds quickly. Will seems like the type to enjoy stories of magic and adventure and escape, and he doesn’t really want to ruin any chance at friendship (or more; preferably more) because of his dislike of the genre.

“I just never have time. To read. And there’s never anything good.” he finishes. Will bites the nail if his thumb.

“You’re boring.” he says finally, in the same way he called Lucas’ mom boring. This time, however, he doesn’t take it back. Lucas isn’t sure whether that’s _ good _or not.

“Guess I am,” he shrugs, then: “Open your kit, I wanna see what’s in it,”

“You just want me to draw you.” Will grins, to which Lucas smiles back. The box is torn open by Will’s paint splattered fingers, and Lucas resists the urge to reach forward and put his hand on top of Will’s.

_ Do you want to draw me? _ He wants to ask. _ Would you mind if my face was the first thing in your sketchbook? Would you rip it out the second I left? Or would you keep it and look at it with a smile? _

“Oh, _ fuck _ yeah! Lucas, look at _ this,_”

He’s snapped out of thoughts when Will shoves a black stick in face. He furrows his eyebrows at him. “What…_is _it?”

“It’s a charcoal stick, here—“ Will scribbles the stick on the back of his hand, and suddenly the pencil markings make a lot more sense. 

His cheeks flush red when he sees the receipt next to him; one that would have demonstrated the use of the charcoal stick much better than his hand.

“So a journalist, huh?” he asks, changing the subject from his new art supplies not at all smoothly. A part of Lucas wants to stay on this art path, but he realizes that’s probably just so he can see Will’s red face for a little longer. So instead of turning them back around, he just nods to Will’s question.

“You’re even more boring than I thought!”

“Fuck you!” Lucas punches his arm across the table, firm enough to feel but not hard enough to elicit pain. Will grins.

He asks Lucas _ why _ he picked journalism, again calling it boring as _ fuck_. Lucas opens his mouth to explain, but his words catch in his throat when Will opens the sketchbook that came in the kit to the first page.

“You gonna draw me?”

“Shut _ up_, no! Give me something. To draw,” he requests.

“Me.” Lucas offers, and Will throws an eraser at him.

He starts to draw some messy lines, seemingly thinking about what he should actually draw. “Tell me about the journalism,” he says.

Lucas’ heart is set alight at the fact that Will seems genuinely a _ little _interested in his major and career path. Whenever he tells someone, “I’m gonna be a journalist,” they smile and nod and offer a short, “oh, that’s nice, anyways.”

“Well, in tenth—no, ninth grade, we did this news article assignment in english that _ everyone _hated, all they did was complain about it,” Lucas laughs, and his smile widens when he sees that Will seems to be smiling a little, too.

“But oh my _ god_, I _ loved _ it. It was based off of, like, a short story we read, so I didn’t do any actual research or interviewing, but it was _ so fun _putting all the stuff into—“

He catches himself rambling, so he stops his sentence mid-way and looks at Will. He’s still sketching, though the lines seem to have a purpose now. _ Looks like he figured it out_.

“Into..?” Will presses, looking up at him. They stop for a moment, seemingly stuck in this position by an outer force. Lucas feels his ears getting hot. He whips his head to the side to look out the snow-covered window.

“Into, er, a format that everyone can read. To learn stuff. Does that make sense?”

“Mhm,” Will hums, looking back up at Lucas. He’s smiling.

“What?” Lucas asks, referring to the expression on Will’s face. He’s got something on his mind.

He bites his lip, “Your face. It got all bright and excited when you started talking about the writing. You’re really passionate about it.”

Lucas swallows, face flushing a bit because how the _ fuck _ did Will get _ passionate _from just his face?

“Oh. It’s, uh, cool that you—that you got that,” he stammers, not _ really _knowing what to say. 

“Artist’s eye.” Will replies, tapping his temple and grinning. 

_ Artist’s eye, _ Lucas repeats in his head. _ Cute little shit. _

The questions continue, along with the laughter and shy smiles. They talk about their worst subway experiences, their favourite spots in the city, and Will manages to sneak in the words _ hey, dipshit, read a book _a solid four times.

The minutes turn to hours, and they’re halfway through a very serious discussion of which coffee shop has the better hot chocolate (which, _ by the way_, is absolutely the one on forty-second street and Will is _ obviously _missing out on some damn good hot cocoa) when Will looks out the window.

“Oh, son of a _ bitch_, what time is it?” he asks, slamming his sketchbook shut. Lucas frowns; he didn’t get to see the finished drawing. Despite this, he glances at his watch, and his face falls.

“Jesus, it’s quarter after ten.”

Will’s eyes widen. He rises from his seat and ushers Lucas out of his. “We closed an _ hour _ago, I need—you need to—“

“Yeah, yeah, no, it’s okay, I’ll go,” Lucas stands from his seat, putting a hand on Will’s tense shoulder. “Don’t worry. You clean up,”

Will exhales slowly and smiles up at Lucas. He’s not quite as short as he initially thought, but Lucas still towers over him. “Sorry I kept you so long. You probably have something—er, some_one _to get home to,”

“Well, um, unless you count my gross roommate who’s leaving for home tomorrow, then no.”

He tries to avoid thinking about how Will’s face lights up. 

“Oh, well, okay,” Will says, “Come back tomorrow? I’m not done arguing with you about that hot cocoa,”

Lucas grins. “I’d love that.”

Their goodbyes at the store’s entrance are a little awkward, and Lucas nudges Will’s shoulder at least three times too many. But they manage, powering through the awkward moments and smiling at the good ones, and Lucas is sent on his way, leaving Will alone to clean up the store.

Lucas walks home with a grin plastered across his face. His cheeks hurt by the time he’s at his dorm. 

The door is unlocked, and he mentally curses Dustin for leaving it that way. When he opens it, he sees his roommate sprawled on the floor, an open bag of _ Doritos _in his hand. His fingers are covered in orange cheese dust.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Lucas groans, taking off his coat and shoes. Dustin sticks his also orange tongue out at him.

“And _ you’re _ very smiley. What happened, see a cute girl?” He licks the seasoning off his thumb, “A cute _ boy_?”

Apparently the way Lucas’ smile widens a little is a dead giveaway for Dustin, because he shouts, “_Ha_!”

“Oh my _ god,_ shut up, I’m going to bed.”

“Lucas has a _ crush_!”

“Go away,”

“You don’t want to spend my last night here for the year with me?” Dustin rolls over onto his stomach to look up at Lucas, and_, shit_, he forgot Dustin was leaving tomorrow. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve already spent the whole night alone.”

“Oh, right, uh—I forgot. Sorry, dude,”

“No, no worries! It was refreshing not having you leaning over my shoulder while I played _ Zelda_.”

Lucas grins at him. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth. Then I’m going to _ bed_,”

“Oh, did you and your boyfriend have a long day?”

He throws a shoe at Dustin, who cackles. “Not my boyfriend,”

“Not yet!” is the last thing Lucas hears from him before he exits their dorm and heads to the communal bathroom.

He thinks over Dustin’s words, shrugs them off, then thinks about Will’s and smiles.

He brushes his teeth in peace, uses the toilet in peace, and washes his hand in peace. But once he steps outside and starts back towards his and Dustin’s dorm, his mind screams, _ You have a big fat crush on this boy! You’re absolutely fucked! _

These words are repeated by Dustin when he mentions Will again and Lucas’ face is suddenly very red and he is suddenly very quiet.

They’re repeated _ again _ when he wakes up from a dream that may or may not have involved Lucas taking Will to the coffee shop on forty-second street and absolutely one hundred percent _ did not _involve him holding Will’s hand under the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case it’s not clear this updates every tuesday !


	3. all the secrets that you’re keepin’ inside

**december 17.**

“Oh, how _ ever _will you manage without me?”

Lucas throws his sock at Dustin, who’s packing the last of his clothes. He shoves the sock in his bag with a grin.

“Better than I ever do when you’re here,” Lucas shoots back. Dustin hums.

“Okay,” he says, drawing out the _ y_, “And how will you manage with your boy?”

Lucas’ face falls as his cheeks heat up. He throws the other sock at Dustin, who puts it in his suitcase next to the other. “Shut up, dude,”

“Can’t believe you’re gonna get a _ boyfriend _and I’m not gonna be there to see it!”

“Shut up!”

“Don’t do anything gross on my bed. I don’t wanna change the sheets when I get—“

“_Dustin_!”

Dustin grins at him, zipping his suitcase shut. “Sorry, sorry. For real though, good luck with him. It’s the kid at that bookshop on thirty-fourth, right?”

Lucas bolts upright. His duvet falls off of his torso and onto his lap. “_You know him_?” he asks. Dustin shrugs.

“Kinda. We talked a couple times back when I was a regular. Then I discovered libraries and never went back.”

Lucas blinks at him. He puts his boots and coat on, then rolls his suitcase towards him. “See you in 1990, baby!”

“Um, yeah, bye.” is Lucas’ reply. Dustin winks and salutes him, then slips out the door and closes it behind him. He hears the lock click shut.

Once he can’t hear Dustin’s footsteps on the creaky wood flooring outside their dorm, he groans and flops back onto his bed.

He’s definitely fucked. Dustin is his friend that knows how to date—Lucas does _ not _ know how to date. Or how to get one. If this were a normal time, one where Dustin was actually with him, he would ask him how to talk to Will, how to ask him on a date—no, not that. Definitely one thousand percent _ not that. _

Willing himself out of bed, he wonders what time the bookstore actually _ opens. _He’s never had to worry about it before; the first day he went it was late in the day, and the second time he got there well into the morning.

_ It’s probably ten o’clock, right? Or nine, maybe? _ he asks himself as he pulls on his _ favourite _ hoodie for no reason in particular. (The green complements his complexion really well—not that he’s thinking about that. He’s _ not._)

Lucas slips into his coat and boots, then scans the room for anything else he might need. His eyes fall on _ Different Seasons, _which lays untouched on his bedside table. He considers bringing it, even takes a few steps towards it. But if he brings a book, then he and Will probably won’t talk as much.

He decides it’s better left at home.

Maybe it’s because this is his third time at the shop and knows the route well now, but he makes it there in only fifteen minutes, though he’s a little out of breath.

He goes to open the door, but he discovers it’s locked. _ Shit. _

The sign on the door says the store opens at ten, and it is in fact ten. Past that, actually—it’s more like 10:30. _ So why is the door locked? _

“Sorry!” 

Lucas whips his head to the left and sees Will speed walking towards him, carefully stepping around the icy patches but somehow still managing to slip a couple times. 

“Shit, hi, Lucas, sorry, woke up late, streets were busy, _ shit, _it’s cold!” Will’s voice is a little shaky, and in between some of the words he heaves our forces little breaths.

He’s right, though, it _ is _cold. And it’s showing on him. His cheeks and nose are flushed, though that might also be from embarrassment. His nose is running a bit, and every couple seconds he sniffles. His fingertips are red, too, and they’re shaking from the temperature.

(And oh _ god _ he looks cute as fuck with his scarf and coat and rosy cheeks and _ oh god _Lucas is so fucking fucked.)

Will finally manages to unlock the door (his shaky hands were getting in the way) and throws it open, entering immediately.

“Holy hell, I’m never going outside again.” he sighs. He’s kept his coat on, even after Lucas follows him in and closes the door, seemingly trying to preserve the warmth.

“Agreed,” Lucas replies. He takes the liberty of grabbing a chair from the table and putting it in front of the cash register. He _ finally _takes his coat off, and it’s actually better without it. He drapes it over the back of his chair and takes a seat, glancing over at Will.

His scarf is off, and he’s in the middle of removing his coat, and only then does Lucas realize _ he’s not wearing an ugly sweater. _

Yesterday he was, and the first day he _ definitely _was, but today he’s got on a t-shirt that looks like it might be for a band, but Lucas isn’t quite sure.

“No wonder you’re cold,” he says, and Will looks at him, “You’ve got a t-shirt on!”

He laughs, and makes his way over to the cash where he puts his coat over the stool. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right, but this shirt is cool as _ fuck_, so.”

Will doesn’t sit down, but instead heads towards the numerous shelves and books. When Lucas looks at him funny, he sighs. “_You _ may just be here to hang out—“ he doesn’t say _ with me, _ “—but _ I _still have to do my job.”

“Okay, then you won’t mind me yelling at you to talk to you?”

“I mean, _ no, _but I feel like the store next door might.”

Lucas doesn’t end up yelling to talk to him, instead opting to follow him around the store, sitting when he works on one shelf for a long period of time and standing when he skims past it.

“Do you know Dustin Henderson?” he asks when Will is tidying books in the history section. Will’s fingers stop short of picking up a book at Lucas’ question.

“Henderson, Hender—curly hair?”

“That’s him,”

“No. Not really. Why?”

Lucas frowns. “Said you knew each other. Kinda. Never mind.” he says, when he realizes what he’s implying. (If Dustin said they knew each other, that meant that Lucas talked about Will enough that he thought about it. Which, you know, _ embarrassing._)

Will drops it, thankfully, and they continue through the store, restocking shelves and fixing books. Lucas starts to help near the end, and Will seems grateful. Lucas likes it because it seems to make him happy, which in turn makes him smile, which in turn makes Lucas happy.

“Did you like high school?”

It’s two o’clock, and they’ve finally finished most of what they need to do. A couple customers have come in, and Lucas needed to move over when a woman bought a book for her daughter. (She gave them a few weird looks, ones that Will returned with a smile that looked a little reminiscent of a smirk.)

Will taps his fingers on his sketchbook, which is blocked from Lucas’ view. (“You can’t look at it!”) “No,” he says finally.

“Why not?”

He hums a little, then looks over Lucas. Perhaps to gauge what his reaction will be. “Well, um—being small, nerdy, having one friend and being gay doesn’t really help in high school.”

_ Gay! Gay! Gay! Gay! Gay! _

Lucas sputters. Will’s face seems to fall a bit; Lucas’ reaction probably seems negative to him. “I mean, um, that’s cool. The gay thing. Not the bad high school thing. It’s cool that you’re gay. I—I, uh, find that gay people are cooler. Personally.”

Will blinks a couple times, then breaks out into giggles and snorts. 

“What?”

“You’re overcompensating.” he says, grinning. Lucas sighs, smiling a little too.

“Maybe. But you feel better about telling me now though, don’t you?”

Will bites his lip, “I guess I do,” he shrugs, “What about you? Did you like high school?”

He’s changing the subject. That’s okay, Lucas decides. Will can do whatever he wants, he decides. 

“Kinda. I liked the english stuff,”

“Shocker,”

“I was _ shit _at phys ed though.”

Will sits up straighter, his pencil rolling across the table to Lucas. “Me too!”

Lucas grins as he hands Will his pencil. Their fingers brush, like normal, and it feels like Lucas’ are on fire, like normal, but this time Will seems to linger for a second. It’s over before Lucas can say anything, but he’s pretty sure that’s what some call a _ moment. _

They talk about phys ed, then science, Will calls Lucas a nerd, Lucas calls him one back. They have _ fun. _

Lucas walks home alone again, once the store closes, because Will still needs to clean up. He wishes he could stay _ after _closing, because he bets cleaning up the store with Will would be fun.

_ You think _ anything _ with Will would be fun_, Lucas realizes with a sigh. 

He decides that’s a problem for another day.

* * *

**december 18.**

Today, completely by accident, Lucas finds himself walking to the shop with Will.

It was pure luck, really. He woke up a little earlier, and so he was out of the dorm earlier. And _ apparently, _his dorm is five minutes from Will’s.

Lucas doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way Will lit up when he saw him walking down the hall. He’ll never forget the grin that spread across his face and the shy, “Hi, Lucas,” that followed. No, that’s permanently ingrained in his brain.

They’ve stopped for coffee and pastries on the way, something Lucas hadn’t even thought to do yesterday. 

And he _ was _ hungry yesterday, though he was a bit too distracted staring at Will’s concentrated face (brows furrowed, eyes narrow, bottom lip between his teeth, A.K.A. the definition of _ cute boy_) when he drew.

_ Speaking _ of the drawing, Lucas still wants to see it, but Will seems pretty adamant on him _ not _seeing it. His point is proven when he asks about it in line to order.

“Can I see your drawing today?” he asks. Will scoffs. His lips are a little chapped; more than normal. Lucas doesn’t know why he’s noticing this, and he _ definitely _doesn’t know why he knows how soft Will’s lips look normally.

(Spoiler alert: its very.)

“Nope.” he replies, and that’s that.

Lucas asks again while they’re walking, hands holding their hot coffee cups tightly.

“So I _ definitely _can’t see it today?” he begs. Will glances over at him and grins, taking a sip of his coffee and shuddering when the warmth from the drink enters his body.

“_Definitely. _ Ask me again on Christmas.” he shrugs. Lucas simply nods because _ ask me again on Christmas _ means _ it’s your Christmas present and also I’m getting you a Christmas present _to him.

He finally gives up after asking for a third time, leaning against the counter of the cash and nibbling on his chocolate croissant.

“Mind if I peek?”

“_Yes,_” Will groans, “Don’t peek. It’s not done. None of my stuff is ever good when it’s not done.”

Lucas wants to argue with him, say _ no, you’re wrong, everything you do is amazing. You’re amazing. _ But he hasn’t even _ seen _Will’s art, save for the mess he makes on his hands every day.

So instead, he leans over the counter and he’s an _ inch _ away from the sketchbook, he can almost _ feel it_—

“I _ said _no peeking, Sinclair!” Will’s voice calls from the history section. Lucas snickers, but truth be told he doesn’t know what he’s snickering at, because his heart doesn’t seem to think Will calling him Sinclair is very funny.

Lucas flips through a magazine while Will puts a returned book back, and he tries not to think about how little customers he’s seen and how many books remain on the shelves.

“Where are you from, Lucas?” 

He looks up from the magazine and sees Will heading towards him. He furrows his brows in confusion.

“Where am I...from?”

“That’s what I said.”

Lucas almost laughs. It’s _ that _ embarrassing. Will probably doesn’t even know where Hawkins is. _ What _Hawkins is.

“Uh—small town in Indiana,” he shrugs. Will blinks at him, lips curling into a small smile.

“That’s not very descriptive,”

“Do I need to describe it more? I’d say _ small town in Indiana _is pretty self-explanatory,”

“Maybe. What’s it like? A small town?”

_ Shit. It’s absolutely shit. You’d hate it, Will, I swear—you’d get out of there the second you turned eighteen. You’d probably come here. You’re better here. You’re too good for a small town. _

“Boring,” he says, “And mean. Very _ very _mean. Bullying’s like, a major problem. It’s like an epidemic or something.”

Will laughs at his joke, covering his smile with his hand. Lucas doesn’t mind, though—he’s already got Will’s smile memorized. If he could draw, he would definitely dedicate an entire page just to that smile. Then another to his eyes, and another to his hair, and probably three or four to his hands and definitely a dozen to his lips.

“What’s this small town with a bullying epidemic called, exactly?”

“...Hawkins.”

Will whistles, “Sounds like they hate people like us.” Lucas isn’t sure if he means what he thinks he means, but either way he agrees.

“What about you? Hometown? Doesn’t sound like _ you’re _ from a small town,” Lucas smiles and Will returns it. (It’s dawning on Lucas now that they smile a lot. Will smiles and it makes him smile, or vice versa. Sometimes they’re just smiling. _ Bit weird._)

Will laughs, he _ laughs, _“No, sir. I’m from here. New York. Born and raised,” he throws his hands in the air, as if gesturing to the entire city, “Well, actually, no, I was born in Detroit, but we moved like, a month afterwards, so.”

“City boy, huh?”

“You could say that. You could also say I can’t actually _ navigate _the city I’m a city boy in, but, you know—“

“Me neither.” Lucas grins, and his comment seems to set Will off.

“Oh my _ god, _ you don’t know how much I hate walking here. The amount of times I’ve crossed the wrong street, and, _ yes, _ I’ve lived here my whole life and— _ stop laughing at me! _”

Lucas doesn’t stop laughing at him—doesn’t stop for a solid minute and a half. Will simply stares at him until he finally quiets down, wiping a tear from his eye with the back of his hand.

“You done?”

“For now. If you hear me dying in the YA fiction section tomorrow, though, now you know why.”

Will rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I—“ he starts, settling into his stool a little. He avoids Lucas’ gaze.

“I really liked, you know, when—“

The door opens, and the not-broken-anymore bell’s ring fills the store. Will stands immediately, not finishing his sentence, not telling Lucas to _ hang on just a second. _

Lucas moves his chair over, preparing for when (if) the customer comes over to purchase their chosen book.

He hears Will’s voice say something like “hi, can I help you?” and he wishes he doesn’t notice how empty it sounds. That’s not how he talks to Lucas.

The woman buys a copy of _ Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, _and Lucas recognizes the folded corners of the cover almost immediately—it’s the copy he was going to give his mom.

“Hello, son,” The woman smiles at him as Will rings her up. He smiles back.

“I was gonna give that book to my mom. It’s a good choice,” he tells her. Her smile widens.

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to think of her when I read it.” she replies, and Lucas knows she won’t, but it’s a nice sentiment.

When she leaves, and Will sits down again, Lucas assumes they’ll continue their earlier conversation. “So what were you—”

“Did Hawkins have a library or a bookshop? Or both?”

Will is once again changing the subject, something Lucas is now realizing is a habit of his. It’s still okay with Lucas.

If it’s Will, he can talk about Hawkins all day long.

* * *

**  
** **  
** **december 19.**

He remembers the book today.

There’s no particular reason _ why _he decided to take it, but it’s been sat on his bedside table gathering dust for around four days now, and he figures he might as well take it for a spin.

He _ also _remembers to wake up a little earlier again. 

This time, he’s out of his dorm before he even sees Will. He’s pretty sure his is 207, so he leans against the space next to it.

It’s suspiciously quiet in the room, but Lucas assumes that’s because Will is a quiet person. (Not at the store, not at _ all, _that boy would talk all day if he could. Lucas would probably let him.)

His assumption is wrong, and he knows this when he hears a door open further down the hall, and Will walks out of it, coat and scarf and all.

Lucas calls out his name and he turns, smiling the second they make eye contact.

“I’m in 211,” he says, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing. Lucas rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up with him.

“_Yeah, _ I got that. Thanks,”

“Of course.” Will sneers, nudging Lucas’ shoulder with his. He swallows.

“So you waited for me, huh?”

Lucas hums. _ Yes. Of course I did. _“It seems so,”

“Coy little shit. You waited for me. How long?” Will asks, looking up at him as they walk through the doors. Lucas inhales sharply as the cold December air hit his face.

_ Five days, _ he wants to say. _ I’ve been waiting for five days. _

“Five minutes, maybe.” he says. It doesn’t sound true. He knows what he sounds like when he’s fibbing—that’s _ exactly _what he sounded like.

Will presses his lips together, ponders Lucas’ answer, then nods.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to waste your day waiting for me.” he shrugs. Lucas thinks about his words for a while, and it’s only when they’re crossing the street the second time that he realizes _ Will isn’t talking about today alone. _

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t know _ what _to say. Surely Will doesn’t actually think Lucas is wasting his day by hanging out with him?

Will seems excited when Lucas pulls out the book, after they’ve settled into the shop for the day. “Finally!” he grins, “I was wondering when you were actually gonna bring it,”

Lucas laughs, “Sorry. Kept forgetting,”

“I see you haven’t made any progress.” Will notes, upon flipping through the book and discovering a suspicious absence of any dog ears or bookmarks.

Lucas doesn’t answer; he knocks Will’s arm with his fist, then snatches the book from his hands and opens it to the first page.

Will leaves him then, going to work in the shelves and _ hopefully _help out a customer or two before he joins Lucas at the cash.

This book is, to put it simply, very good. Lucas is actually _ enjoying _ it. And he’s _ invested. _He doesn’t budge when Will sits down, doesn’t move when the bell rings, and he takes a solid minute and a half to react when Will pokes his arm.

“What?” he groans, looking up and seeing Will with a _ very _annoyed expression on his face.

“Sit like this. You can keep reading, just—let me see your face. Please,” he adds at the last minute. Lucas blinks, but he can’t fight the grin that spreads across his face when he realizes what Will is doing.

“You’re drawing me!”

Will huffs, but he doesn’t _ deny _ it. His cheeks flush a little. “_Maybe. _Hold still. Move your head to the—yeah, that’s good. Hold that.”

Before he starts, Will grabs a book that was returned recently and situates it in front of his sketchbook, so Lucas can’t see. Will glances up at him, grins, then slouches his back a little and starts sketching.

Lucas does his best not to move, save for flipping the page and _ breathing, _ and _ oh fuck _what if he sneezes? He can’t control his sneezing, so—

“You can sneeze.” Will says absentmindedly, somehow knowing _ exactly _what Lucas was (is, kind of) thinking.

He tries his best not to move when a customer comes in, and it gets extremely difficult when said customer holds Will’s attention for _ ten whole minutes and who the fuck needs an employee for ten minutes? _

When he comes back, Lucas remembers what he said outside the shop.

_ Good. I wouldn’t want you to waste your day waiting for me. _

“I’m not wasting my day,” he mumbles, looking up at Will without actually moving his head. Will doesn’t look back.

“Sorry?”

“You said you didn’t want me to waste my day waiting for you. I’m not wasting.”

_ I could wait forever, and it wouldn’t be a waste. _

_ (Okay, Lucas, calm the _ fuck _ down, you’ve known this boy for what, a week? Dial it back a bit.) _

Will doesn’t answer. A minute goes by, then two, then _ three, _and finally he looks up at Lucas.

“I’m not wasting either.” he says, eyes determined. Truth be told, Lucas can’t actually see his face very well but he can just _ tell _that he means it.

“Now hold still,” Will looks down at his paper again, cutting off their more serious moment, “I need to get your eyes which is _ hard _when you’re reading—no, keep going, I’m glad you like it, just. Never mind.”

Normally in a conversation that involved the words _ never mind, _ Lucas would press on, beg the other to continue. But he’s not actually sure if Will’s _ never mind _had cut off a monumental conversation. So, against his better judgement, he leaves it alone.

They spend the rest of the day in practical silence. Another couple customers walk in, and one even buys a book, but for the most part the day consists of Lucas reading and Will drawing him reading.

Today, _ finally, _he stays behind to help clean up.

“I might as well work here,” Lucas comments absentmindedly, pulling his chair back to its rightful place at the long table in the centre of the shop.

Will chokes out a, “_Ha_!” then looks at him. “No way. I, dear Lucas, am the one doing _ literally _ everything else. So, no, you don’t _ might as well work here._”

“Worth a shot.” Lucas shrugs. Will doesn’t say anything, but Lucas can hear him snickering into his hand.

He’s starting to think this whole being nice thing isn’t just Will’s job. Not towards Lucas, anyways.

* * *

**december 20.**

Will has decided, against his better judgement, to open the shop a little later than normal—Lucas wants to take him to the _ good _coffee shop on forty-second.

“I _ swear, _it’s the best hot chocolate you’ll ever have,” he assures him, stepping over a patch of ice and catching Will when he slips on it.

“It’s so _ far, _though! I’m not walking ten minutes for some hot cocoa when there’s one across the street,” Will whines, shoving his hands into his pockets. He should get gloves. Maybe Lucas will get him some gloves for Christmas.

“Stop _ whining, _ we’re almost there. Just a little—jesus, Will, careful!” Lucas catches Will slipping again, missing the sidewalk below by a foot or two, _ maybe. _

“Sorry.” Will mumbles. His tone tells Lucas that he’s _ actually _ sorry, sincerely. _ Probably feels bad for being clumsy. _

“No worries,” Lucas says awkwardly, watching him cautiously and preparing to catch him again, “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Will smiles up at him, then gestures to a coffee shop across the street. “This it?”

Lucas doesn’t answer; he grabs Will’s arm and yanks him towards the crosswalk, dragging him all the way into the shop.

“Be a little more aggressive, would you?” Will mumbles, his tone sour. Lucas rolls his eyes and drags him into line. 

They both order hot chocolate, and a croissant each (Will’s plain, Lucas’ chocolate). Once they have their orders, they take in the last of the warmth from the shop and head outside.

They’re walking for five minutes when Lucas realizes Will hasn’t had any of his drink yet. “Will, oh my god, just drink it,” 

Will glances over at him, then back at his cup. He cautiously blows on it a little, then tips it upward to take a (small) sip.

He chokes.

“Oh my _ fucking _god.”

Lucas takes a sip of his own drink, sighs into it, then looks over at Will. “That’s a good oh my god, right?”

Instead of answering, Will takes another (much larger) sip of his drink.

It’s a slow day at the shop.

They eat their breakfast and Will works on his drawing of Lucas a little more. There are no customers in the morning.

In the afternoon, Lucas continues his book. He’s on Winter now, and holy _ shit _ he loves this book. Will is _ very _good at his job. 

It’s a little into the evening that Will initiates a conversation.

“Hey, Lucas?” His voice is quiet, tentative. It makes Lucas nervous—but he trusts Will. Call him crazy. He probably is.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been—I’ve been meaning to ask you something. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but—“

“Just ask me, Will.” Lucas says, and Will’s shoulders slump. He smiles.

“Um—why did your parents cancel? I’m just curious, but you don’t—never mind,” He looks away, folding his arms over his chest. Lucas frowns. 

“It’s not actually that exciting, unfortunately,” he sighs. Will peeks up at him through his eyelashes. Lucas swallows and turns his head towards the shelves. “They won a trip to the Bahamas. And _ obviously _ they chose that over my sister and I, and I don’t blame them _ at all _,”

Will hums. His arms fall from his chest to rest on the table instead. “Besides,” Lucas continues, “I think _ this _is more fun than sitting in my parent’s stuffy house in a stuffy sweater exchanging shitty presents.”

Will blinks at him once, twice, as a blush creeps up his neck and up to his cheeks. He ducks his head and starts drawing again, something he hadn’t been doing for a _ while. _

Lucas bites his lip, then huffs a little. “If you...don’t mind,” he starts. Will glances up at him, then back down at his sketchbook. “Why aren’t you with _ your _family? Sorry.” he adds, when he sees the frown that’s formed on Will’s face.

“No, it’s okay,” He _ finally _looks up at Lucas, and rests his chin on his hand. “My, um—my mom. She’s got this new boyfriend, which is, like, whatever, you know?”

Lucas nods. Will sighs, and suddenly Lucas realizes that it is not _ whatever. _

“He’s not too keen on the whole, um,” He gestures to himself, and when Lucas doesn’t say anything, he frowns, “The whole _ queer _thing.”

Lucas’ heart drops to his chest, because Will deserves nothing but acceptance, and just _ knowing _that someone doesn’t makes him clench his teeth. “I’m sorry,” he says simply. Will shakes his head.

“It’s okay. He just, uh, he doesn’t really like _ me, _so he doesn’t want to invite me to Christmas. My mom's in a sort of, er, men-before-your-own-son phase right now, so no Christmas for Will Byers.”

Well—_that _was something. By no fault of his own, Will has brought the tone of the evening down exponentially.

“I—“ Lucas starts, then he closes his mouth. What _ can _he say? Nothing, except—

“I’m sorry. I know, I already said that, but I really am. You don’t deserve that,” he says, his tone firm and final. Will stares at him silently; Lucas can see him swallowing hard as he speaks.

“Hopefully I’ve made it a little better? Christmas, I mean.” he finishes. Will blinks at him a couple times, before a minuscule smile appears on his face. His cheeks are tinted pink again—Lucas hopes they stay that way forever. 

“Christmas hasn’t happened yet,” he says, biting his lip a little. Lucas pauses, then laughs, actually _ laughs. _

“Okay, so your Christmas _ break_?” he offers. Will squeezes his eyes shut, smile widening into a full grin.

“So much better.”

“Mine too. So, um, thanks for that.”

Will snorts, shakes his head, then slouches back into his work. Lucas wonders if he’s almost done with it.

He hopes he is. It’s probably _ amazing, _despite the not-so-amazing model. He’s never actually seen any of Will’s pieces, but surely he’s an art major for a reason.

“When can I see it?” he asks. Will hums, but doesn’t meet his eyes.

“When it’s done,” he shrugs, “You wanna walk home together?”

_ Duh. Yesterday when we walked home I smiled for twenty minutes _ after _ we both went into our dorms. Hell fucking yes I want to walk home with you. _

“Sure.” he says instead, flipping his book open as if this is a casual conversation. (Okay, it is, but Lucas’ heart disagrees.)

A man comes into the store about an hour later and leaves empty handed. Lucas decides to ignore the frown that’s clear on Will’s face when the man leaves. 

At closing time, Will tells him that he’s skipping the clean-up tonight. Lucas isn’t mad at that, though he admits it’s a bit (a lot) weird.

New York is prettiest at night. It’s even _ prettier _at Christmas at night.

That’s what Will says, anyway.

Lucas disagrees, noting that it still smells like piss and cigarette smoke. Will doesn’t seem to mind that, because _ apparently _a cool looking tree cancels out a shitty smell.

They walk past a tree that’s been covered in twinkling lights, and when Lucas sees the lights reflected in Will’s eyes and the gold colour warming his skin tone, he suddenly sees the appeal.


	4. some would like it best if they're headed for your chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dt any and all trans girl mike warriors (if you don't like it! i do not care. enjoy anyways)

It’s four days to Christmas, three to Christmas eve, and calling Lucas excited is an understatement.

He has everything planned out. He’s going to go to the shop on Christmas eve, ask to hang out after closing time, then hopefully take him out to dinner somewhere in there. Maybe kiss him, too. _ Maybe. _

He wakes up early, like normal. Past Lucas would probably _ murder _present Lucas for getting up at nine o’clock every day on his winter break, but present Lucas decided days ago that this is more than worth waking up at the crack of dawn (in student terms) for.

Despite the voice _ screaming _ at him to pick up _ Different Seasons _and take it with him, Lucas decides to leave it here for today. He’s not sure if Will is done with his drawing yet, and he wants to make sure that he can see all the parts of his face he has yet to sketch.

He takes one final look at his book before he leaves and nods to himself, as if to confirm that _ yes, he is in fact okay with leaving it at home. _ Tugging on his coat and zipping it up tightly (the weather forecast today is basically _ cold as shit_), he exits his room and closes the door softly behind him.

Like usual, Lucas leans against the space next to Will’s dorm—the _ right _one this time—and waits for him. If his watch is right, he’ll be out of the door in five minutes.

Five minutes go by—Will is nowhere to be seen.

Lucas decides to wait for just a _ little _ while longer, because it’s entirely possible that Will is sleeping past his alarm, or he’s taking his time getting ready, or _ whatever_.

But five minutes comes and goes _ again, _ and Will is still M.I.A. It’s now that Lucas notices how quiet 211 actually is. So Will is either sleeping, or he’s already at the shop.

Lucas decides that the latter is more likely, so he abandons his spot next to Will’s dorm and, after taking a final look at his door, he walks towards the exit of the building.

The forecast for today was correct—it’s fucking cold. Lucas wraps his arms around himself as he crosses the street.

He’s going to the coffee shop on forty-second first, for three reasons. One, he’s hungry, and all he wants right now is this place’s hot cocoa and chocolate croissant. Two, it’s cold outside, and warm inside. If the line is long enough, he’ll get a solid five or ten minutes in the warmth of the shop. Three, Will probably _ didn’t _ go here for his breakfast today, because it’s a little ways off from his normal route to the shop. And Lucas is sure that he would _ want _this cocoa. 

He orders two hot chocolates and his normal chocolate croissant, and he’s out and back into the cold in a mere seven minutes.

He drinks his cocoa as he walks to the shop, and attempts to eat some of his pastry, which proves difficult when you’re carrying two hot beverages. He almost spills a couple times, but manages to save the drinks every time. (He’s a little proud of it, too—he holds his head a little higher when he catches the cup for the second time.)

When Lucas _ finally _ gets to the bookshop, he’s grateful to find the door unlocked; that means that Will is _ here. _

He is immediately proven wrong when he opens the door and sees someone that is _ definitely one-thousand percent not Will _behind the cash register.

“Hello,” the employee says. She’s smiling, but her words sound empty and her voice sounds very tired. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Um—yeah, actually,” Lucas replies, still a little confused. _ Where’s Will? _“Well—someone. I’m, uh, looking for a boy? He works here, his name's—“

“Will,” she groans. Lucas steps a little closer to the counter and reads her name tag. _ Mike. _

“You know him?”

“Yeah, I _ know him,_” Mike’s tone has soured completely now—her nose is upturned, and her overall demeanour is _ annoyed. _

“Good, good, that’s good. Do you know where he is?” Lucas asks, finally getting to the cash register and putting the two drinks and his now-empty pastry bag on it. Mike looks down at the cups, then back up at him.

“Nope. Called in sick, which means that _ I _ have to work, and on _ Christmas!_” she rolls her eyes, pauses, then continues, “Okay, not actually Christmas, but it might as well be! And, _ get this, _ he left yesterday’s mess for _ me _to clean up!”

It takes Lucas a solid thirty seconds to intake Mike’s words, process them, and think of a response that makes at least a _ little _sense.

“Oh.” is what he decides is adequate, which it is _ not, _and he pinches his thigh in frustration.

“Yeah,” Mike says back, staring at the two cups of hot chocolate on the counter.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Lucas asks her, already somewhat knowing what the reply will be.

“No,” she sighs, “I don’t. Probably when he’s not sick anymore.”

Lucas almost asks when that will be, as if Mike has any _ clue. _ As if she _ could _have one.

“Okay. Um, thanks. Sorry for bothering you,” he frowns. He looks at Mike, then at the drinks, then back at Mike. “Do you want one? It was meant for, you know, but—”

“Sure. Thanks.” she interrupts him, and he doesn’t blame her. She takes the hot cocoa gratefully, and when she starts to drink it Lucas realizes that this is where his visit to the bookshop ends.

“Thanks again. See you,” He waves at her once he’s at the door, and he’s almost one hundred percent sure he _ won’t _ see her, and he’s one _ thousand _percent sure Mike knows this, too. He’s extremely confident in the fact that she doesn’t mind one bit.

“Yep. Thanks for the cocoa. Later.” She smiles a little, and Lucas isn’t sure if it’s genuine or not, but it’s a nice smile either way. 

He exits the shop, and when he looks through the window on the door he sees Mike pump her fist. Lucas laughs a little, then turns around to face the street.

What the _ fuck _ is he going to do now?  
  


His first thought is _ give up, just go home and read your book and throw yourself a pity party because you couldn’t hang out with the boy you like for _ one _ day. _But that doesn’t sound very fun.

His second thought is _ wait right here, in front of the bookshop and hope that Will magically recovers from his sickness and comes to work, if he’s even sick, which you’re starting to think maybe he isn’t. _

Lucas is also starting to think he’s really bad at making plans.

His third and final (and best, if he does say so himself) thought is _ look in every building on campus, and also the shops you know he would go to, just to see if he’s maybe not sick. _

Lucas decides this is the best option, and so he takes a long sip from his hot chocolate, zips up his coat all the way, and starts towards the other, much worse coffee shop across the street.

It smells good, Lucas can admit that, but the one on forty-second remains the best. (He’s tempted to try the hot chocolate, just to see if he was wrong when he was arguing with Will, but he already has one in his hand, so boo-fucking-hoo.)

Unfortunately, Will is not here. With a long sigh and one final breath of warm air, Lucas leaves the coffee shop.

Will is also not in the art supply shop near the bookshop.

He is _ also _not in the shitty convenience store near the university.

And he is _ also, _ shockingly enough, _ not _in any other fucking store that Lucas checks. (Which, if he’s keeping track properly, is about five, maybe more. That doesn’t even include the four he checked before he started counting.)

Lucas’ next stop is the entirety of New York University, which is even worse than it sounds.

He can confidently eliminate any building that only has classrooms. Will is smart, sure, and he probably likes school, but _ no one chooses _to be in a classroom on their winter break.

He looks for Will outside the buildings first, searching the small crowds that form on the street occasionally and craning his neck to see above them, just in case Will is _ just _outside of the huddles. (Spoiler alert: he is not.)

Lucas’ next stop is the library. This seems like the most realistic option, besides his fucking _ dorm, _ because Will likes books, whether it’s reading them or just _ looking _at them. And he likes drawing. And he’s not sure, but Lucas thinks both of those things can be done in a library.

Lucas hasn’t actually been to the library that many times. Twice during exams last year, and once when he needed to pick a book for a project. (He’s beating himself up about not going to the bookshop, now, because maybe if he did he would’ve met Will a lot sooner and maybe they’d already be dating and maybe it’d even be _ serious._)

It takes him a second to collect his thoughts, because _ shit _the library is overwhelming. He doesn’t really know where to start. So instead of starting with a section Will would be interested in, he starts at the front of the library and makes his way to the back.

It’s like a maze, almost. He works his way through the shelves like it’s a puzzle to be solved. Only it’s not a maze, and the only puzzle to be solved is _ where is Will Byers? _

After ten minutes of walking past books and peeking through gaps, Lucas discovers that Will Byers is not in the library.

There’s one place left to look. (Minus, of course, the entire city, but Lucas doesn’t want to hang out with Will _ that _much.) And if Will isn’t in there, then Lucas will have to revert back to plan A.

Which, unfortunately, just so happens to be his least favourite of the plans he made.

Lucas now realizes that he’s been holding the now-empty cup of hot chocolate for much longer than is necessary, so he tosses it in the trash can just outside the building that his and Will’s dorms are inside.

He’d almost forgotten how quiet the building was, because for the past week every time he was inside he was either replaying his and Will’s conversations in his head, or talking to Will directly.

Lucas is pretty sure he used to like the quiet, but he’s not too fond of it anymore.

When he finally gets to 211, he pauses. What if Will _ isn't here_? Or, maybe worse, what if he _ is_? Then majority of Lucas’ day will have been a waste. (He’s not too bothered by it, actually.)

_ Come on, Sinclair. You’ve got this. _

He raises his fist and knocks once, twice, three times on the door.

There’s no answer.

So he tries again. Three knocks, then he silences himself and waits.

Lucas is met only with silence.

With a heavy heart, and a tired body, he goes back to his dorm, dragging his feet across the floor.

His dorm seems so sad now. As Lucas tosses his coat on Dustin’s bed and looks around, he just feels _ sad. _

Not, like, depressed sad or anything. He’ll be fine in an hour, probably. He’ll read (and hopefully finish) his book, and take a nap, and he’ll be _ fine. _He’ll survive.

For now, though, he’s just a little bit disappointed. 

_ It’s fine, _ he tells himself, _ Will’ll be better for Christmas. You can still take him out to dinner and you can still kiss him after, even though it might get you sick, because _ holy shit _ you want to kiss him so bad. _

He takes Dustin’s extra blanket, wraps it around himself, and silently thanks his roommate for leaving it behind.

Lucas settles himself into his bed and reaches for his book, but based on his level of comfort and warmth and fatigue, he doesn’t think he’ll get very far. 

_ Tomorrow, _ he decides, _ I’ll do the same tomorrow. And I’ll find him. _

At least, he hopes he does.


	5. i just wanna talk again tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's a bit long. so get comfy!  
happy holidays byclairnation.

Tomorrow turns today, and then turns to yesterday, and Lucas does not find Will.

He does talk to Mike for a little longer, though, and he discovers that she’s actually very kind. She even paid him back for the hot cocoa, which was unnecessary, but Lucas wasn’t going to just _ say no. _

He bought a book, too, mostly out of sympathy. Mike looked so _ bored _ and like she wanted something, _ anything _to do, so Lucas asked her to help him find a book for a friend. (Probably Dustin.) They found a graphic novel that Lucas liked perfectly fine, but he liked that he had entertained Mike for ten minutes just a little more.

He left soon after that, but not before grabbing another hot cocoa for Mike. She deserved it. (From what he had heard, though he couldn’t confirm it himself, Will is a very bad coworker.)

Lucas went on another (much shorter) search for Will once he left Mike alone, and was (unsurprisingly) unsuccessful. He even checked some stores in the mall, just in case maybe Will was doing some (very last minute) Christmas shopping, but all he got from _ that _was a scary mother yelling at him for looking at her kid the wrong way.

_ Turns out Will really _ is _ sick _was Lucas’ initial thought when he got back to his dorm. It’s what he told himself the remainder of the day, when he finished his book, when he listened to one of Dustin’s tapes, when he took two very nice naps, and when he stood by Will’s door for a while. (Twice.)

Despite everything that’s happened the past two days, Lucas is still going to the bookshop today.

He’s slept in today, which feels _ amazing, _actually. He forgot that’s what winter break is for—taking a break, not waking up at the crack of dawn and hanging out with a cute boy. (Although that is objectively much better than any break Lucas originally had planned.)

Hoping and praying that Will is at the shop today, Lucas puts on his coolest hoodie (it’s _ blue_) for absolutely no reason at all. He also opts out of bringing his book with him, because he’s missed two days of talking to Will and they _ definitely _have a lot to catch up on.

On his way to the shop, he goes to the coffee place on forty-second and picks up a hot chocolates for Will, and a coffee for himself. (He hasn’t had it in a while, so even though he _ loves _this place’s hot chocolate, he decides coffee is better for today.)

The door to the bookshop is unlocked, thank _ god, _so Lucas opens it and enters the shop, revelling in the sound of the bell signalling his arrival.

It’s silent for a moment, save for the radio playing Christmas music station on the counter, before Lucas hears a familiar (and very comforting) voice yell, “I’ll be with you in a minute!”

Lucas smiles to himself; this is very reminiscent of their second day together. Lucas came in, Will told him he’d be there in a minute, then he fell off his ladder. _ Shit, what if he falls off his ladder? _

Thankfully, Will does not fall off his ladder. He finishes putting away a book that was either recently shipped in or was recently returned (Lucas hopes it’s the former), and steps out from behind the shelves. Lucas pretends he doesn’t notice the way Will’s face lights up when he sees him.

“Hi, Lucas,” he says with a grin. Lucas rubs his lips together, before smiling widely, too.

“Hey, Will.”

He resists the urge to run forwards and hug him.

“Where, uh, where have you been?” Lucas asks awkwardly. It’s never never been awkward between them—he doesn’t like it. He hopes and prays that Will can save it.

He doesn’t. Instead, he says, “About.”

“Doing?”

“Can’t tell you.”

Lucas grins widely at Will, who bites his lip before stepping forwards. “That for me?” he asks, pointing to the drinks.

“Yeah,” Lucas hands him a cup, and he hopes it’s the right one; they’re identical.

It is not the right one. Will takes a sip and chokes. “_Shit, _this definitely isn’t mine. Switch.”

They make the trade easily and smoothly, like they _ normally _do when they pass things to each other, which happens much more often than what is considered the average.

Lucas’ fingertips are still set on fire when he touches Will’s hand, like normal, and his cheeks are still flushed when Will smiles at him. _ Like normal. _

“I thought you liked coffee,” Lucas says before taking a sip of his drink. Will does the same, and he sighs in relief when he tastes the chocolate.

“There we go,” he mumbles, then looks up at Lucas. “I do like coffee. Normally. The days leading up to Christmas it’s like my taste buds break. I hate coffee right now, but on December twenty-sixth I’ll like it again.”

Lucas nods along to Will’s words, stifling a laugh, because _ what the fuck? _Once he’s finished, he says, “You’re weird.” Will grins.

“Blame the season, not me!”

And just like that, they’re back; for real. Will sets up Lucas’ chair in front of the counter, and they easily slip into a conversation. 

They’re discussing the worst Christmas presents they’ve ever gotten (Lucas’ was a vinyl record—he was seven, and didn’t have a record player) when a customer entering the shop interrupts them.

Lucas quickly realizes that it’s _ not _a customer, because Will immediately whispers a quick “sorry, let me just—” before he stands to talk to the boy who just walked in the door.

He’s tall, and older than both of them by at least a few years. He looks a bit like Will, but Lucas supposes you could say that about every New York white kid with messy brown hair and warm eyes. (Will is extremely attractive, sure, but his general appearance isn’t exactly _ unique._)

Lucas doesn’t hear the conversation very clearly, only snippets like “I didn’t think you would—” and “you can’t just do—” Will looks over at him a couple of times, and the boy does too. Their gazes are very different; Will’s warm and concerned, the boy’s a little colder and more annoyed. Lucas wishes the boy wouldn’t look at him.

Finally, he hears Will sigh, long and hard. He comes over to Lucas, the boy watching him closely. 

“Hey, um,” Will starts, avoiding Lucas’ gaze. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want the boy, whoever he is, to hear. “You need to go.”

“What?” 

Will is frowning. He squeezes his hands together, then says, “Please just trust me. I can explain everything, um, tomorrow? We’re closed, but we can go to the coffee place we like and then—I don’t know. But you need to leave.”

He finally meets Lucas’ eyes, and all he can see is hurt. _ He doesn’t want me to leave. Of course he doesn’t. _

“Okay, okay, hey, no worries, okay? I’ll meet you at your dorm tomorrow morning, sound good?” Lucas puts a tentative hand on Will’s shoulder, which relaxes almost immediately.

“Sounds good. Does eleven o’clock work for you? I need to sleep in. Please.”

Lucas grins. “Perfect. See you at eleven o’clock, William.”

With a shy smile and small wave, Will is seeing Lucas outside. The not-customer sneers at them on their way to the door.

“Bye, Lucas,” Will says. The way he bites his lip suggests that he wants to say more, but he leaves it at “See you tomorrow.”

The door closes, and Lucas waits until Will is completely out of view before heading back towards campus.

The rest of the day is a depressing, Will-free blur. Lucas almost leaves his dorm (or the library at one point, which is absolutely shocking and he can’t _ wait _to tell Will that he spent a full hour in a library) to go back to the bookstore a couple times, but then he remembers the look on Will’s face and decides he’s better off here.

He can’t help but wonder, throughout the day he spends alone, who the fuck that guy was and what the fuck he was doing with Will.

* * *

Lucas goes to Will’s dorm at 10:50.

He waits, unsurprisingly, for ten minutes. When he sees Will come out of his dorm, bundled in a warm coat and scarf that seems to just be there for the aesthetic, and sees his face light up immediately, Lucas decides it’s worth it.

“Hey stranger,” he grins. Will raises an eyebrow as they start to walk down the hall towards the exit.

“Stranger?” Will’s tone has a playful edge to it, but he’s still clearly confused.

Lucas almost laughs. “Seriously? Mr. M.I.A. for the past two days?”

He hears Will curse under his breath. He pauses for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, before he huffs. 

“Was busy. No, I can’t tell you more than that. It’ll all make sense tomorrow.”

It’s Lucas’ turn to raise an eyebrow. “Christmas?”

“Yeah, idiot, Christmas.”

Lucas doesn’t know why (yes he does), but Will calling him an idiot makes his heart race. Maybe it’s the smile that accompanies it. Maybe it’s just Will.

The next fifteen minutes are spent catching up on the time they’ve missed. Will teases Lucas when he says that he went around looking for him, but he’s laughing and his eyes look pretty when he laughs so it’s okay.

The feeling of warmth after they enter the coffee shop is immediate and it puts a small smile on Lucas’ face.

Will’s voice comes from his left and for a split second it’s the only thing in the shop. “The usual?”

Lucas grins because _ Will knows his usual _and nods, mumbling a quick thanks and, “I’ll grab us a seat.”

Will gives him a thumbs up and enters the line as Lucas situated himself at a high table in the back of the shop. 

He removes his coat and stuffs his gloves into the pockets. He watches (probably with a stupid looking grin on his face) as Will moves forward in the queue. Once he’s ordering, Lucas’ smile only gets wider. 

Will laughs and smiles politely with the barista, and _ shit he is so fucking pretty. _

Once Will is finished ordering, he puts a bit of cash in the tip jar, and Lucas nearly starts crying.

He comes over five minutes later with two coffee cups in hand, and a paper bag.

“You got food?” Lucas asks, taking their order to allow Will to sit down and remove his coat easily.

“Just a croissant. Thought we could share,” he shrugs, then looks up at Lucas through his eyelashes, “If that’s okay.”

Lucas bites back a curse and instead says, “Totally okay.”

Will smiles softly, and opens up the bag. His bottom lip sits between his teeth as he pulls it apart, handing a half to Lucas and claiming the other for himself.

“So,” Lucas says after they’ve sat quietly for a few minutes, “Yesterday?”

Will whistles softly, putting his half eaten croissant on the paper bag. “Getting right into it then, huh?”

“Seems that way.”

He downs some of his hot cocoa, hums, then looks at Lucas. “Okay. So _ apparently _I’m not allowed to hang out with people on the job. Which, you know, bullshit, right?” Lucas nods, and Will continues, “Well, it seems my stupid brother doesn’t seem to think so.”

Lucas blinks. _ Brother? _

He doesn’t say anything, allows Will to talk a little more.

“I guess Mike snitched? Probably, but, like, I don’t know. So he came over—my brother, I mean—yesterday to basically tell me _ stop hanging out with c—_“ Will stops and chokes on his words for a second.

“You okay?” Lucas asks. _ What was he going to say? _

Will clears his throat, “Yeah. Sorry. So he said, like, don’t hang out with people on the job. Which I _ guess _makes sense, but, you know.”

He continues to talk and complain about his brother, all while Lucas wonders why the hell Mike would snitch on them to Will’s _ brother, _of all people.

Will seems to be in the middle of talking about how his brother really fucking likes to meddle when Lucas interrupts him.

“Sorry,” he says once he cuts Will off. Will shrugs and nods for him to continue. “But, uh, _ why _ did Mike tell your _ brother _ and not, like, your boss? Because, like, what’s your brother gonna do?”

Will blinks at him a couple times, then presses his lips together to hide a growing smile. “Tell my boss, probably,”

“Your brother knows your boss?”

“Lucas,” Will almost snorts, “My boss is my _ mom._”

And then it hits him.

“_Byers Books._”

Lucas gapes at Will as he laughs his fucking _ ass _off. (Normally this would make his stomach flip but right now he’s a little too distracted to be attracted to Will.)

“You never, like, put it together?” Will says after his laughter has come down a bit.

“I don’t actively look at the sign when I come in!”

“This’ll teach you!”

Will is still laughing, although it’s much softer and more like a giggle now. Lucas’ cheeks feel a little hot as his next sentence slips out.

“So that’s why you’re always sad after someone leaves empty handed,”

He didn’t mean to say it. He wanted to keep it in his head, something for him to think back on when he goes to sleep tonight. But it comes out and Will’s laughter ceases when it does.

“You…” Will takes in a breath, a shaky one, “noticed?”

His smile is gone completely, something Lucas doesn’t see very often. Will’s eyes are always bright, or his lips are always upturned the slightest bit.

Right now, his eyes are dark and sad and his lips are pulled into a small frown. 

Lucas doesn’t like it. 

“Yes,” he says.

_ I notice everything you do. How when you’re focused on drawing you bite your lip. How when you’re _ really _ focused on drawing your tongue pokes out a little. How you hold your hands together sometimes. Shit, I wish I could hold your hand. _

“It’s just, um,” Will sighs. His fingers link together subconsciously. “Mom says that the store’s in deep shit. That’s why she wanted us to wear those stupid sweaters, and—“

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to tell me. I got it,” Lucas smiles, and it earns him a small one from Will in return. His hand twitches in his lap, and it takes a great deal to keep himself from reaching under the table and putting it on Will’s.

“I have one question,”

“Fire away,”

“Your mom employs you,” Lucas pauses. His hands are twitching again, aching for Will’s touch, so he lifts himself from his chair slightly and shoves his hands under him. “But she doesn’t invite you to _ Christmas?_”

Will lets out a breathy laugh and shrugs. “Boyfriend doesn’t know I work there. So that’s okay, apparently. I don’t know.”

Lucas offers a sympathetic frown, to which Will shakes his head.

“No worries. I don’t need her Christmas anyways,” he pauses, bites down hard on his lower lip, then says, “Not anymore.”

Lucas breath catches in his throat, and whether Will means _ he’s _made Christmas better or not his heart is still beating a mile a minute.

* * *

Will and Lucas stay in the shop for much longer than they need to. After their hot cocoa they loiter for a while, and grab two bottles of soda when an employee tells them they need to order something or leave.

The drinks (plus some sandwiches and waters) last them another two hours before the same employee kicks them out.

They exit the shop laughing, shoulders pressed closely together. Lucas didn’t notice how hot his face was until he feels the cold Winter air on it. He assumes Will has a similar experience when they leave the cafe because he scrunches up his nose in discomfort.

They walk along the streets, much closer together than is necessary. 

“What now?” Will asks, looking up at Lucas. He frowns. 

“What do you mean what now?”

Will groans, “I _ mean _what now? What are we doing? Where are we going?”

Lucas had assumed that the coffee shop not-date (it sure fucking felt like a date) was the end of their Christmas Eve together. When he voices this assumption (minus the date thing) Will snorts.

“You wanna spend Christmas Eve alone?”

“Well, no—“

“So let’s not. You wanna go back to my dorm? Or yours, but I have, like, movies and such there.”

Lucas swallows and hides his growing smile by pretending to watch some oncoming traffic. “I _ do _like movies,” he says nonchalantly. 

He hears a quiet, high-pitched noise from his left (it might’ve been Will) and turns to see Will grinning.

“Okay.” he says simply. Lucas nods, and it’s as simple as that.

Their walk is quiet between them. They laugh a little, and Will thanks Lucas when he saves him from slipping on ice yet again.

“Do you wanna, um, grab anything from your dorm?” Will asks as they head to 211. Lucas raises his eyebrows. 

“Why?”

“Well,” Will draws out the word, folding his arms over his chest, “I was thinking you could stay over. Christmas Eve sleepover, if you will.”

Well, _ shit, _there goes Lucas’ heart. He could just about die right here, he thinks.

“Yeah, okay. Cool. I’ll grab my stuff and meet you in there.”

Will offers a smile, and waves a little when they reach his dorm.

“See you in five, Sinclair,”

“Make it four, Byers.”

When Lucas turns around, his lips break into a grin and he squeezes his eyes shut, holding in a squeal because _ he’s staying over in a boy’s dorm! _

He enters his dorm a minute later and throws his coat on Dustin’s bed immediately. He looks around the room for a second before grabbing his backpack from the floor.

He shoves a pair of pyjamas and a sweater inside, and an extra pair of socks. Truth be told, Lucas doesn’t know what you bring to a sleepover. He hasn’t had once since he was very young, and those were usually with Dustin and he already had a bunch of stuff at his house anyways.

His bag of toiletries goes in some pocket further in front, forced in with great difficulty due to the actual _ stuff _inside.

Lucas finds himself picking up his copy of _ Different Seasons _ and delicately placing it in the front pocket of his bag. It’s muscle memory mostly, but he leaves it in, just in case Will falls asleep (_god please let him fall asleep_) and Lucas needs to entertain himself.

When he’s digging through his and Dustin’s desk drawer, he finds a folded up piece of paper that was clearly deliberately placed there. Brows furrowed, he takes it out and unfolds it carefully.

It’s a note from Dustin, his messy handwriting filling the paper. Lucas, being one of the few people who can actually _ read it, _starts at the top of the page.

_ Lucas my man! _

_ I’m sure you’re finding this well after I’ve gone, because a) you’re stupid and b) I bet you’ve spent the entire two weeks in that dumb bookshop. _

_ You’re asleep right now! I leave in the morning. Don’t tell anyone but I might might might miss you a bit. Shh! _   
  


_ Anyways, I’m basically writing this to tell you to get a fucking grip and ask that Will kid out. Like, seriously. You’re soooo whipped for him, it’ll drive me CRAZY if I come back and you’re not at least going on dates. _

_ Please. For my sanity. Ask. Him. Out. _

_ Also buy me a Christmas present. I’ll get you something good from down here. _

_ \- Dustin (obviously) _

Lucas grunts, crumples up the paper, and throws it on his _ stupid _roommate’s bed.

After the note fiasco, he’s out of his dorm and at Will’s door in three minutes and thirty-two seconds, true to his word. Will voices as much when he opens the door. Normally, Lucas would laugh and blush and smile at Will’s teasing, but he’s a bit distracted by the scene just behind Will at the moment.

He knew Will liked Christmas, that much was clear from the way he looked at the lights, but not like _ this. _

There doesn’t seem to be an inch of his dorm that doesn’t have some sort of Christmas decorations on it. There are lights and a couple strings on tinsel hung on the walls, along with what looks like a very cheap wreath. A group of about four tiny nutcrackers sit on a shelf, along with a shit ton of snow globes.

Will’s bed has a red and green blanket on it, as does his roommate’s. (Who’s his roommate?) Those could just be their usual aesthetic, but Lucas knows Will isn’t the type to willingly put _ red _ on his _ bed _unless it’s for the holidays.

“It’s a lot, I know,” Will says. He sounds a little uncomfortable. After taking in the sight of the three foot tree lighting up the corner of the room, Lucas looks at him. He smiles, breathless.

“It’s _ awesome._”

_ Awesome _ sounds like a bro-friend way to describe it. Lucas thinks _ beautiful _ or even _ breathtaking _ but his brain decides _ awesome _is the best way to put it.

Will’s look of discomfort dissolves into a grin. “Thanks,” he says softly, then steps back to let Lucas inside.

“You do all this yourself?” Lucas asks once the door is shut. He’s trying to smoothly transition into talking about Will’s roommate; not that he _ cares. _

“Yeah,” Will sighs, “My roommate is a strong Christmas decoration anti. I did it over a couple of weeks, though,”

Lucas quirks an eyebrow, “You’re roommates with a Christmas hater?”

“They’re not a _ hater. _Just think the decorations are tacky,”

“Oh, I’m sure you despise them,”

“They’re my best friend, actually.”

The two of them are now sat opposite each other on the bed. Will on his own, Lucas on his roommate’s.

“Who, uh, who’s your roommate?”

Will taps his fingers against his knee, then says, “Their name’s Max Mayfield, they’re—”

Lucas cuts him off, knowing exactly who he’s talking about. “A very mean redhead?”

Will bites his lip, but it doesn’t hide the growing smile and the laugh he lets slip out. “That’s them.”

Lucas thinks over who Max Mayfield is. He’s seen them around campus before, he thinks—once he might’ve spilled coffee on them and paid for a new shirt. He wonders if they still have it. And maybe they showed it to Will that day, and maybe he wondered who bought it, and maybe for the past year Lucas is the mystery shirt-purchaser he’s been searching for.

“That’s cool. They’re cool. I didn’t know that guys and—”

“Careful,” Will interrupts. His tone is teasing, he’s not mad at what Lucas was about to say, but he looks down sheepishly anyways. “And usually they can’t, but since we’ve been friends our whole lives and we both had the worst fucking mental health when we applied for housing, our moms pulled some strings. I think Max had, like, an uncle who worked here that made it happen.”

Lucas doesn’t dwell on the mental health comment, because Will doesn’t want him to. He knows he doesn’t—it was said in passing and just to explain a story. Maybe one day they’ll talk about it, but they silently decide that right now it doesn’t matter.

Lucas once again slides smoothly into another conversation topic, something he’s been getting rather good at. Not that he needs to—he and Will could be talking about music one minute and their childhood bedrooms the next and it wouldn’t be weird, or awkward, or out of place.

Nothing is weird with Will.

“Speaking of, um, _ friends,_” Will leans forward as Lucas speaks, ready to respond to his question. “What the fuck is up with that Mike girl?”

“Oh, don’t get me fucking _ started _on Mike!”

But Lucas does get him started, and Will rants about how _ she was actually supposed to be working with me this whole week, you know? She skipped out on the fifteenth, and then literally just stopped showing up! Little bitch. _

He’s not sure when or how it happened, but somewhere between now and Will’s lengthy Mike-rant the two settled themselves onto Will’s bed, close enough to be aware of it, but far enough that neither can feel the other.

“Do you, um, wanna watch a movie now?” Will speaks up. He moves his feet, previously an inch away from Lucas’ thighs, so that his knees are bent upwards. Away from Lucas. 

“Okay,” Lucas replies, “What do you have?”

Will’s face lights up at the question, and he leaves the bed a little clumsily to browse his tape collection.

“What are you in the mood for? Something nice? Something sad? You wanna cry? I could cry,” 

Will continues to ramble about what type of movie mood he’s in, but Lucas doesn’t hear it. He has an image of Will crying because of the film (him crying _ real _tears is a different story) in his head and he looks really pretty, which is sort of a weird thing to think but it’s true and—

Lucas’ strange train of thought skids to a halt when Will chucks a VHS case at him. It hits his chest _ hard _before landing face down in his lap.

He picks it up and flips it over, then scrunches up his face in a mixture of confusion, disgust, and premature boredom.

“Dude, this movie is so fucking boring. We can watch it before we go to bed, that way we’ll fall asleep easier.”

The film in question is _ A Christmas Carol, _the 1951 version. Also known as the most boring movie on the face of planet Earth.

Lucas watched it with his parents when he was younger, and every single time he fell asleep. He stopped once Erica was born, so it’s been many years since he even looked at a copy. He’s one thousand percent sure that if he and Will _ did _watch it before eleven thirty, they would be asleep well before the credits rolled.

(But maybe that’s not such a bad thing, because then maybe Will would fall asleep on his shoulder or in his _ lap. _Lucas isn’t sure how he would get into his lap, but he’d make it work.)

Will frowns a little at Lucas’ rejection, but he can see a small smile fighting it’s way to the surface so he knows it’s just for show.

“How’s _ A Christmas Story _ sound, then?” As Will catches the _ Christmas Carol _tape that Lucas tosses at him, he holds up the other VHS. 

Lucas shrugs, “I don’t really like it,”

Will smiles, “Me neither,” he pauses, then; “We can not really like it together.”

The word _ together _stays with Lucas well after Will sits down on the other side of the bed, the VHS in the player and the film beginning to play.

_ Together _ is all that’s really on his mind as Will’s voice, watered down and fuzzy, teases the movie in the background. He hasn’t even heard more than one full scene of the film, which he’s not exactly _ mad _at, but he wishes he could participate in the making fun with Will.

The film ends as soon as it starts, and when Will asks him a _ real _ question _ together _finally leaves his brain and he looks at him.

“Pizza?”

“Okay.”

When Will calls their local pizza place, Lucas notices his customer service voice kick in a little bit. There’s a smile on his face, too, the same one Lucas saw the first day they met.

December 15 feels like it was a millennium ago, when really it’s been a week and a few days, which greatly puts into perspective how quickly he caught feelings for Will. (Gross.)

“Cheese?”

“Pepperoni, thanks.”

Will’s nose upturns, but he shrugs anyways and says, “One medium cheese and medium pepperoni, yep, thanks,” into the phone.

Lucas doesn’t know what they’re going to do with all the extra pizza, because there’s no _ way _they can finish both. Lucas has never really been a heavy eater, and Will is so small he looks like he could have one slice and be satisfied.

Thirty minutes later, in the middle of _ The Shop Around The Corner, _he discovers he is correct.

Will has eaten a whole slice and a half of his pizza, and he’s already slowing down. Lucas huffs.

“Knew we shouldn't have gotten mediums,” he says. Will looks at him, eyebrows raised.

“And yet you didn’t say anything,” he shoots back. His tone is teasing, like it always is when they “fight.” They _ don’t _fight; they tease and force anger on their expressions and then laugh it out.

“Oh, did you not get it from my silence? Guess I’ll have to be more obvious next time.” Lucas says _ next time _without thinking, because it implies that there will be another day that they hang out in Will’s dorm, laugh at shitty movies and eat too much pizza.

Will still grins widely though, so maybe it’s okay. Maybe he wants a next time too. 

The next film on the agenda is _ It’s a Wonderful Life. _

At least, that’s what Lucas assumes Will meant when he said _ the best Christmas movie ever. _

Apparently, the two of them have very different perceptions of what the best Christmas film of all time is, because Lucas catches a glimpse of the case and it’s _ Die Hard. _

“That’s not a Christmas movie, Will,” he says, extremely confused.

Will’s entire body freezes, and, without turning around, he says, “Get out of my dorm room, you sick fuck.”

Lucas digs himself into an even deeper hole with, “It’s not!”

Will finishes putting the VHS in the player, all the while saying things like _ it takes place on Christmas _ eve, _ Lucas! _ and _ they literally play Christmas music, you absolute fucking idiot. _

Lucas remains unimpressed throughout the whole film (actually it does sort of feel like a Christmas movie and _ shit _Will is right again), and remains unimpressed when Will points out every Christmas detail in it.

_ Die Hard _ comes and goes, and by the time they finish arguing about whether or not it _ is _a Christmas film (an argument that Will ends up winning, because of course he does), it’s eight o’clock.

They do in fact end up watching _ It’s a Wonderful Life, _ at Lucas’ request. Afterwards, it’s _ Miracle on 34th Street. _Both of which are spent an inch apart on Will’s bed. A couple of times, Lucas’ hands twitch and he very nearly scoops Will up in his arms and holds him close.

Thankfully, for a multitude of reasons, he shows some self restraint and leaves Will alone.

When _ Miracle on 34th Street _ ends, and Will goes to the television once again, Lucas notices that his movements are a little slower, and he yawns a couple times, face scrunching in a way that makes Lucas _ melt. _

Adorable yawns aside, Will is tired.

When Lucas points this out to him, he shakes his head quickly and hits play on _ A Christmas Carol. _“‘M okay.” he says softly, making his way back to his bed to join Lucas.

Based on the way he immediately lays down on top of the covers, just because he “wants to be more comfortable,” Lucas determines that he is decidedly _ not okay. _

He surprises himself by watching the entire film. He’s not sure what keeps him up, but it’s not actually as boring as he remembered. He watches with a genuine interest, and even though he knows most of the general story, he’s still surprised at times and is smiling at the end.

“That was actually kind of—” he begins, turning to look at Will. The words stick in his throat when he catches sight of the sleeping boy next to him.

Lucas isn’t sure _ when _he fell asleep, but it has to have been a while ago. The blankets are wrinkled enough and Will is curled up enough to show that he’s been in many positions.

And holy fucking shit he’s pretty. (The word _ beautiful _crosses Lucas’ mind, but it feels like too much too fast. Pretty describes Will perfectly for now.)

His face is a bit squished on top of his hand, and Lucas is sure that when he moves it it’ll be red for a while. His breathing is slow and shallow, and is paired with the occasional soft snore that makes Lucas‘ face burn.

He _ knows _Will can’t stay on top of his covers, because it’s way too cold in the city for that. Which means, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, depending on how it goes), Lucas is going to have to move him.

He’s used to moving people into their beds, he did it all the time when Erica was younger, but even then he didn’t need to maneuver her under the covers when she was _ on _the bed. 

Lucas stands up, trying to figure out how to get Will under his blankets without—

_ He’s going to have to pick him up. _

The realization comes to Lucas when he tries to figure out how he can move the entire blanket without disturbing him. He can’t. Not well, anyway.

He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, says a silent apology to future Will (and future _ Lucas _) if he wakes up, then reaches down and slides a hand under Will’s side.

He loops an arm around his upper back and the other under his thighs, apologizes _ again, _and lifts him from the bed.

Will doesn’t stir until Lucas shifts his weight to one arm, which he can do easily thanks to how unsurprisingly _ light _he is.

When he’s situated on Lucas’ side, meticulously balanced in his arm, his arms loop slowly around his neck.

Lucas, obviously surprised by the action, looks over at him. He’s still asleep, thankfully, and he feels a little more secure now. His face flushes a little at how _ close _they are, but he powers through and pulls back the blanket on the bed.

With his second arm free, Lucas lowers Will onto the mattress with ease. His face twitches a little, but his eyes stay closed as Lucas pulls the blanket over his shoulders.

He kneels down so his chin rests on the bed, and just _ looks _at Will. He seems so peaceful and content, happy to be where he is. Lucas thinks he is too.

A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s officially Christmas day, so he looks back at Will and smiles, whispering a small, almost unintelligible, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

Will doesn’t react. Lucas exhales a little, then reaches forward and slowly slowly _ slowly _puts hand atop Will’s.

It’s now he realizes how _ close _ they are and he could lean forward and just _ kiss him_—

He moves his hand and leans back before he does anything stupid.

He sighs a little, then stands up from his knees. He’s about to move away when he feels Will’s _ impossibly soft _fingers wrap around his wrist.

When Lucas turns around his eyes are still closed, so he’s probably still mostly asleep. He doesn’t say anything, but his actions say enough: _ stay. _

“I’m coming back,” Lucas says softly, “Just gotta use the bathroom. I’ll come back.”

Will nods sleepily, and his fingers slowly fall from Lucas’ wrist. His hand hangs off the side of his bed until Lucas gently moves it next to his body.

Lucas’ wrist feels like it’s on fire when he leaves to use the bathroom and brush his teeth. Even when he washes his hands with the coldest water he can get, it’s still burning.

When he comes back to Will’s dorm, after he’s changed into his pyjamas, he seriously considers fulfilling his sort of-promise to Will. But he looks over at his sleeping form and he looks so comfortable and happy with the amount of space he currently has, so as much as he would love to sleep next to Will tonight, Lucas climbs into Max’s bed (hopefully they don’t mind) and curls up under the covers.

“Goodnight Will.” he whispers just loudly enough for him to hear, and when he hears no response from Will, Lucas smiles and flips over, allowing himself to fall asleep.

* * *

Lucas wakes up to Will’s face inches from his. Which, admittedly, is an _ amazing _start to his day.

“Hi,” he says quietly, and Will jumps back in surprise, apparently not having noticed Lucas’ awakening until he spoke.

“I mean—” Will corrects words he didn’t say, “Hi.”

Lucas smiles at the blush creeping up Will’s neck, “Merry Christmas,” 

“You already said that,” Will pauses, realizes what he’s said, then; “I _ mean, _uh, merry Christmas. Yeah.”

Lucas snorts a little, then sits up to check the clock. _ 11:00a.m. _

“You let me sleep for that long?” he asks. WIll just shrugs.

“You looked happy. Plus, I needed to finish your gift.”

_ Gift? _

Lucas opens his mouth to voice his confusion and _ I didn’t get you anything, _but Will stops him by saying, “Nope! Not interested. Go to the bathroom, get dressed,” Lucas notices that Will is already dressed, and upon further inspection he can see paint and pencil markings on his hands again, “and then come back, then you can see it.”

“You’re so annoying,” Lucas groans, contradicting his complaints by standing up. It earns a grin from Will, which earns a grin from Lucas.

“And yet here you are.”

_ Here he is. _

Lucas rushes in the bathroom, skipping a minute of brushing his teeth and not bothering to change his t-shirt. He also brushes his teeth while he’s at the toilet, but he’d rather not admit that. Nevertheless, he manages to get out of the bathroom in six and a half minutes, taking an extra thirty seconds to give himself a pep talk in the mirror that goes a little something like this:

“Okay, Lucas, big day. Gonna take Will out to dinner, gonna kiss him afterwards. That’s not so bad, huh? You’ve only ever taken one girl on a date and she walked out on you, _ and _you’ve never kissed a boy before, but it’ll be fine. Yeah. All good here. No worries.”

It ends with a thumbs up and then a grumble before he shuts up and heads back to Will’s dorm.

When he enters the tiny room, he seems to have caught Will in a situation he shouldn’t have caught him in. He’s hunched over his desk, folding something. When he hears Lucas’ footsteps, he squeaks and yells, “Close your eyes!”

Lucas does so with a confused expression. Will catches it and explains, “It’s your gift. I’m putting it in a box. So, close your eyes. It’ll be done in like a minute.”

“A whole minute to put something in a box?”

“I don’t wanna ruin it,”

“So it’s ruin-able?”

“Stop guessing and let me finish!”

Thankfully for Will’s sanity, Lucas _ does _stop guessing. Out loud, anyways.

_ Did you buy it? Did you make it? Is it the drawing you did in the shop? Is is another drawing? Is it a book? What did you get me, Will? _

“Okay, here, open ‘em.”

Lucas opens his eyes to Will standing right in front of him, box in hand. It has _ To Lucas from your favourite bookstore cashier who falls off ladders _ with a smiley face written on it in big black sharpie letters. He laughs at the note, because a) the ladder incident is funny, thinking back, and b) Will is his favourite _ anything. _

“Open it.” Will presses.

Lucas looks at him and, while sitting down on Will’s now made bed, says, “I didn’t get you anything—“

“Art kit, remember?”

“Right,” he laughs, “Art kit.”

Will looks at him expectantly, eyes _ begging _for him to open the box. When Lucas moves his hands onto the top of it, Will nods quickly. 

He yanks off the pieces of cardboard that keep the box sealed, looks up at Will, who grins, then looks into the box. As soon as he does, his breath hitches. 

What he can see (he’s not sure if there’s more) is a drawing of the bookshop with Lucas in front of it. It’s simple, just the basic shapes of the building and himself, plus some small details in the items in the window and his clothing. It’s done in watercolour, the colours a mixture of realistic and a bit of Will’s own imagination, with the colourful book in the window and the shade of red on Lucas’ shoes. 

“It’s, uh, the first day you came to the shop. I used—“

“The art kit?” Lucas finishes for him, looking up with a smile. Will, face flushed, smiles back.

“Yep. You’ve gotta thank your parents for going on vacation the next time you see them. I wouldn’t have been able to pull off either of the—“

Lucas cuts Will off again, “Either?”

Will blinks at him, then chuckles a little. “Yeah. There’s two. Take the building one out.”

And Lucas does, and he gasps loudly when he sees the picture under it. 

It’s _ him. _ A portrait of him reading his book, the cover delicately recreated almost perfectly. His face is remarkably similar to his real one, maybe even _ better. _And it’s done in—

“Charcoal,” he breathes out, a light laugh twisting with the words.

“You remembered,” Will replies, sighing in relief.

“Of course I did,” says Lucas, then, “It’s amazing, Will. Fucking amazing. You did me better than my mom did.”

Will laughs, “I don’t think that’s true. I just had a good model.”

Lucas looks up at him, cheeks burning. Will looks like his are doing the same. 

They hold eye contact for what feels like a lifetime. Lucas’ ears start ringing due to the silence.

Thankfully, Will breaks it with, “This is what I was doing when I called in sick. I’m sorry for ditching you. But hopefully these make it worth it?”

“More than.” Lucas replies. Will smiles at him before leaning in close to him and for a second Lucas thinks he’s going to kiss him but he runs his fingers over the watercolour painting instead.

While Will is staring at his work, maybe criticizing, maybe admiring, Lucas stares at Will.

_ Ask him, Lucas. Ask him. He’ll say yes. Even if it’s just as friends he’ll say _yes.

Will thumbs over Drawing Lucas’ cheek (which causes Real Lucas’ cheek to burn) and Lucas blurts it out.

“Do you wanna go out for dinner tonight?”

Will’s gaze immediately shifts from his art to Lucas’ face. His eyes are blown wide with surprise, and Lucas worries he went too far too fast. “You don’t—“

“Okay.” 

“Really?”

“Yes really! Why would I joke about that?”

“I don’t know. Thought you’d be sick of me by now,”

“Nope. Never.”

Will’s mouth snaps shut when the words come out, face going red. Lucas is starting to notice how often that happens when they’re together. Maybe it means something. Maybe it doesn’t. 

“I’ll meet you back here at six? I’ve got a project I wanna finish.”

Lucas frowns at the fact that he’s not spending all of Christmas with Will, even though they’ve been inseparable for nearly two weeks. But at least they’re going on a date.

(Not a date. They didn’t say _ it’s a date! _so it’s not a date.

Unless it is.)

“Sure thing. Then maybe I can finish my book.”

Their goodbyes are easy. Lucas isn’t sure whether it’s because they’re that compatible (in a friendship way, probably) or because they’ll be seeing each other in five hours. Either way, they say goodbye and Lucas almost hugs Will but he doesn’t, and he heads back to his dorm alone.

_ Not for long, _ he tells himself. He tosses his bag on Dustin’s bed after removing his book, then flops onto his bed. He pulls the blanket he stole a few nights ago over his chest, then opens his book to his place. He’s _ definitely _going to finish it today.

_ Five hours, _ Lucas reassures himself, _ I’ve waited way more than five hours. I can wait five more. _

* * *

Lucas really fucking wishes he and Will had settled on a dress code.

They’re meeting up in fifteen minutes, but Lucas being Lucas is getting ready early. And boy, he wishes he knew what he was getting ready for.

They never decided on a location, so it’s pretty up in the air. Normally when he doesn’t know what to wear but still wants to look nice, Lucas puts on a button-up t-shirt and jeans and calls it a day. But New York is fucking _ cold, _and the restaurants here never seem to notice, keeping the air conditioning on the entire season.

He looks through his closet for the fifth time, and his gaze settles on a sweater he hadn’t noticed the previous four times.

It’s green. _ Green. _ He looks best in green. And Will seems to like him in green, because he’s worn it twice since they met and both times he commented on it. (_I like the green _ and _ cool hoodie, that shade is nice_.)

Lucas pulls the knit sweater, a sort of half-dead leaf green, careful to stretch the neck just enough so it looks casual, like he hadn’t put any real thought into it. (Because Will doesn’t need to know he spent ten minutes picking it.)

He goes for his clean sneakers, also known as his _ fancy _ones. He bleached the laces and everything. 

Before he leaves, Lucas opens _ Different Seasons _again, just to make sure he knows what happened. He reads the last page quickly, and, once he’s memorized the final line, he slams it shut and tosses it on the bed. 

(Now if Will asks him what his favourite part was he can say the end. And recite it. He’s got this date in the _ bag._)

(Not a date.)

Lucas is finally waiting at Will’s door with five minutes to spare. If there was a mirror out here, he’s sure he would be looking himself over, because he’s still not confident in the outfit he chose.

Lucas hears a rustling from 211, and a string of curses from Will, which makes him smile. After that, he hears the familiar squeaking of their halls shitty door knobs, and after another quiet swear from Will, they’re both outside of the dorm.

“Hi,” Will says, smile clear on his face. His breathing is a little heavy—he seems to have rushed a bit. His eyes flick downwards towards Lucas’ sweater, and he smiles. “I like that.”

Suddenly, Lucas does too.

Thankfully Will seems to have had the same clothing idea, because he’s in a grey knit turtleneck. He looks better than Lucas, but that’s a given. 

“You look,” He’s about to say _ nice, _ play it safe. But Will looks _ good. _“good. You look good.”

Will’s cheeks go red, and he stammers out a, “Thanks. You, um you too. You also look good,”

Lucas laughs, “Thanks,” He’s so close to saying _ you too, _but he manages to save himself from embarrassment by saying, “You ready to go?”

“Sure am.” Will replies, and they’re off.

Lucas hadn’t thought this far ahead. The plan was _ ask Will out, take him out, kiss him _but he doesn’t know what to do in between.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Lucas says back.

“The diner by the shop has a shitty Christmas dinner going on right now,”

“Aren’t we a bit overdressed for a diner?”

“Aren’t we a bit _ broke _for anything else?”

This earns a laugh from Lucas, one that puts a grin on Will’s face. “You have a point. Diner?”

“Diner.”

A diner isn’t exactly what Lucas had in mind, but he remembers taking Erica to this one last summer when she visited for the weekend. She seemed to like the milkshake she got. Then again, a Christmas dinner isn’t exactly a milkshake.

He hadn’t been to this diner _ since _Erica’s visit, and it’s not at all what he remembered. It seems to have been modernized greatly, with the coloured yellow walls being traded in for a sleek white. The classic colourful atmosphere of a diner, one you’d see in movies, has been replaced with a black, white and red motif.

It’s cool. Really cool.

Lucas voices as much to Will, who nods quickly. “I’ve been coming here a lot recently. On breaks and stuff. It’s great for getting me in a sketching mood. Oh, and the waiters are _ so _ nice, it should be illegal how nice they are. But, like, not,” Lucas listens to every word, but Will still seems to think he’s being _ too much. _“Sorry. I’m rambling,”

“It’s okay.” Lucas shrugs. _ It’s more than okay, actually. It’s cute and you’re cute and I love your voice and I want to listen to you talk all day. _

A waiter comes up to them, _ finally, _ and helps them to a seat. Since it’s Christmas Day, most of the city is _ not _at this diner. There’s an elderly couple (who are so cute it makes Lucas’ heart hurt) in the corner, and a father with his young son near the door. There might be another family in the other dining room, but the waiter brings them right past it and to a booth just past the older couple. 

“Thank you.” Will says to the waiter once their menus are on the table. The words, and the smile that comes with it, make the waiter smile right back. (The interaction looks a bit employee-customer to Lucas, and he’s not sure which is which.)

The waiter leaves after they’re settled, and Will grins over at Lucas from across the table. The whole ordeal feels very date-like, but that’s when Lucas tells himself that it’s _ not that. _

“What do you want?” he asks. Will clicks his tongue and looks over the menu, resting his chin on his hand.

“Don’t know. Don’t know what I can _ afford._”

“Huh,” Lucas says, perusing the options himself. He skims over burgers, sandwiches, _ pizza, _ which, _ wow, _and finally he finds the Christmas section. “What about this two-can-dine thing? Christmas turkey,”

Will looks at him, stifling a laugh, “It’s probably shit,”

“All the more reason to get it.”

Will fakes a gag, then nods and slams his menu shut. Two seconds later, their waitress appears next to their table. 

“Hello!” she smiles, “I’m El. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

“Uh, yeah, can I have a coke?” Will asks. El frowns at the question.

“We only have Pepsi,”

This makes Will’s _ entire _face light up. “Pepsi’s even better. Thank you.”

El’s lips break into a grin, and Lucas feels his do the same.

_ He prefers fucking Pepsi. I think we’re soulmates. _

El looks over to him expectantly, so he panics and says, “Pepsi for me too.” (Not that he wasn’t going to order it, but he blurts it out before he has a chance to think it over.)

“Awesome. You two know what you’re eating? I can get it ready now. Or you can wait until your drinks are here. No rush!” El speaks with the sort of kindness that you would expect from a waitress, but it doesn’t feel fake. Her smile seems genuine and she’s actually _ listening _to what they’re saying.

“Do we know?” Lucas asks, looking back at Will. He’s staring at him, and when Lucas looks at him he jumps and nods. “Cool. We’ll have the two-can-dine. The turkey one,”

El’s hand scribbling words on her notepad stops. She looks up at Lucas and Will, looks back and forth between them, then raises her eyebrows. “Two-can-dine, you say?” Lucas nods. 

Her expression dissolves into a smile that Lucas can only describe as _ knowing. _“Cool beans. Be back with your drinks in a bit.” she says, taking their menus from the table and walking away.

Once she’s gone, Will whistles a little. “The turkey one?”

“I forgot what it was called!” Lucas shoots back. Will rolls his eyes, though he’s holding back a laugh; Lucas can tell. 

They fall into their normal conversation easily. What was your childhood like? Have your parents called? Did you just say your moms name was _ Tara? _

El brings their drinks over as they discuss last night’s movie adventures. 

“You fully fell asleep. Total zombie,” Lucas explains with a grin.

“Oh my _ god, _I’m not that bad!” 

El catches Lucas’ gaze as Will speaks, and she winks at him and leaves without a word. It takes him a second to recover because _ she totally fucking knows. _

(Not _ knows, _ she _ thinks. _)

Their food comes surprisingly quickly after their drinks. It’s a bit concerning, if Lucas thinks about it too hard.

Their meal is very classic Christmas; turkey, stuffing, potatoes, the whole ordeal. And all _ drowned _in gravy.

It’s probably shit, but it looks good.

The first bite is bad. But it gets better. Sort of. 

Will doesn’t seem to think so; “This is actually really good,” he says between two bites. Lucas raises his eyebrows. 

“Glad _ you’re _enjoying it,”

“Do you not like it? You want something else?”

“No! It’s just—it’s not what I expected. It is good!”

“You sure?”

“Yes,”

“Positive?”

Lucas’ heart does back flips in his chest as how persistent Will is being on making sure he’s okay and happy with his meal, but he ignores it and tells Will that he’s annoying. Will smiles at him and resumes his meal.

(It does get better, after Will tells him that adding salt makes everything taste better. It works, apparently. But it’s Will who told him, so who’s surprised?)

It’s twenty minutes into their meal and during a lull in their conversation that Will speaks up.

“Lucas?” His tone is serious. Will is being serious. This is either very good or very bad. Lucas looks at him anyways.

“Hm?”

Will puts his fork down and bites his lip. In a moment of what looks like decision, he grabs his Pepsi and takes a long sip from the straw, then looks at Lucas over the table.

“I wanted to, um, to thank you. For tonight. And yesterday. And the other day. And every day before that,” he starts. Lucas holds back a smile as he continues. 

“I didn’t think I was gonna have a very nice Christmas this year. Last year was the first year Jim—“

“Jim?” Lucas interjects, and Will huffs. 

“Mom’s boyfriend,”

“Oh,” Lucas says, then he snorts. “Even his _ name _sounds homophobic.”

Will’s laugh sounds a bit like a whimper. The smile that appeared on his face at Lucas’ comment fades as he continues his spiel.

“Last year was the first year Jim showed up. And the whole dinner was basically him telling me how fucked up my ‘lifestyle’ is. Which was not ideal. And my mom didn’t _ do _anything about it because she really likes him which is fine so it was my executive decision—“ It wasn’t his decision, his mom didn’t invite him, “to stay back.”

Will looks at Lucas again, as if to ask _ is this weird? Can I keep going? Are you bored? _

“And?” is his response to this, and it’s enough for Will.

“So I thought this year would be shit. But then you showed up and made it, uh, not shit. Like _ really _ not shit. So, yeah, thank you. Sorry,” he finishes up his speech, apologizing for the rant. Lucas shakes his head. 

“Don’t be sorry for saying what you wanna say,” he says simply. Then, “You don’t need to thank me. _ You _ made _ my _Christmas not shit, too.”

Will’s smile looks like it’s hiding a couple tears, and they continue their meal in silence. (It’s okay—the silence is okay.)

El comes back with their bill nearly ten minutes after she takes their empty plates away, but neither of them mind.

Lucas takes the bill, reads it over, and starts digging through his coat pocket for his wallet. Once Will realizes what’s going on, his face goes red. 

“Lucas, you’re not…_ paying, _are you?”

Lucas doesn’t answer verbally, just looks at him and nods. It seems to say enough.

“No! Oh my god, seriously? What’s the total, we can—“

“Will,” Lucas says calmly, pulling two twenties out of his wallet and preparing to hand them to El, “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

El takes the money and the change Lucas says she can keep gratefully. “You two have a good night,” she says. She leans over to Lucas and whispers, “Good luck with him. Seems fiery. But he’s good, I think.”

Lucas’ cheeks burn and she leaves with a wink.

The cold air that greets them when they exit the diner is jarring, to say the least. Will pulls his scarf tighter around his neck and sticks his hand in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders to keep his exposed ears warm.

Lucas is only slightly more prepared, as he pulls on his pair of gloves and sticks his hand in his pockets, too. Will grumbles a, “Lucky,” and Lucas shrugs slyly.

“Should’ve brought gloves.” 

The street they walk down is full of small, leafless trees covered in lights of all colours. Some colourful, some blue, others gold. The gold ones are Lucas’ favourite because Will looks pretty in the light they emit.

It’s in front of a shop with golden lights all over that Lucas stops suddenly. The atmosphere of the night, plus the lights, plus how fucking _ gorgeous _Will looks right now with his wind blown face and snow dusted eyelashes is all too much and he just needs to kiss him right now or he thinks he might die.

“You okay?” Will asks, slowing to a stop next to him. Lucas pauses for a moment, before nodding and pulling his hands out from his pockets.

He starts to take his gloves off, because he wants to finally feel Will’s skin, feel how soft and warm and perfect it is. 

He just needs to feel _ Will. _

“Are you crazy? It’s freezing, your fingers are gonna—“ Will’s words hitch with his breath as Lucas puts a (slightly shaking) hand on his cheek.

Will’s face goes redder every second Lucas holds his hand on it. He can feel the temperature shifting from cold from the wind to burning hot. He’s not focused on that, though—Will’s skin is as soft as it looks and Lucas doesn’t really want to _ stop touching it. _

Whether by choice or subconsciously his thumb finds its way to Will’s lips, which are very subtly parted. Lucas’ thumb presses into the corner of his mouth before shifting slightly and dragging across his bottom lip. (It’s _ also _ as soft as it looks and, despite his extremely slow movements, Lucas can’t _ wait _to feel them against his own.)

His pinky rests just below Will’s ear, and he can feel his heart racing from it. Lucas’ own heart is thumping violently in his chest. 

He drags his thumb over Will’s lips again, and all it earns is the softest, tiniest whimper that Lucas would have missed if Will wasn’t the only thing he was focused on right now.

He takes a deep breath, moves his thumb to the right, just away from Will’s mouth, then leans forward and downwards a little and kisses him, _ finally fucking kisses him. _

Will’s hands find their way to the back of Lucas’ neck as he stands on his toes to kiss him deeper. Lucas decides right here and now that the best feeling in the world is Will’s soft soft _ soft _lips against his.

His free hand, the one that isn’t stroking Will’s cheekbone gently, slides over his waist and pulls him even closer.

When Lucas feels Will’s breathing get heavy against his cheeks, he pulls away, but keeps his hands where they are.

Will’s chest is rising quickly and lowering just as quickly. His cheeks are flushed, his heart is racing under Lucas’ pinky, and he looks so _ pretty _that Lucas leans down to kiss him again.

Will leans back before their lips can meet, gesturing to the groups of people coming in from both sides of the sidewalk.

“Not here,” he whispers, “Please.”

And Lucas understands. He understands the homophobic boyfriend, the homophobic childhood, and the scared little gay kid in front of him who wants to kiss a boy but doesn’t want to get beaten up in the street.

So they walk. Will’s hand in Lucas’ pocket, fingers intertwined, they walk.

They’re not sure where they’re going, not yet, but with one look at Will, who’s biting his lip harshly to hide his widening smile, Lucas knows they’ll figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end.  
thank u for reading :]


End file.
